


The Fall of the Kingdom of Alba

by Silent_Witness



Category: Monster Girl Encyclopedia
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-01-06 16:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18392198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_Witness/pseuds/Silent_Witness
Summary: For over a hundred years, the Kingdom of Alba has stood against the encroachment of the monster realm. It's secret weapon? The Sacred Flame, a magical fire that projects a barrier that not only repels monster, but destroys demonic energy.This is the story of how the Flame was extinguished, and the kingdom fell into debauchery.





	1. Prologue: Purification

**Prologue: Purification**

The time had come.

The knights had been dispatched to this far-flung corner of the kingdom to counter the encroaching spread of the demonic realm. After all, powerful as it was, the protection of the Sacred Flame could only reach so far. The Enemy knew this, and was already hard at work establishing a base in a small village within the affected area. It was rare for these knights to take such a task- they were more often dispatched to attack the enemy in their own territory, slowly expelling the Enemy's influence from the surrounding lands. But upon arriving, they understood why they had been summoned. The conversion of the region into a demon realm was already well underway: the grass was black, and the sky was already beginning to darken from the demonic energies saturating the air. Any normal internal authorities would have quickly succumbed to the Enemy's wiles.

The knights had arrived under the cloak of night, observing the village in secret, and after several days, they had finally gathered enough information to mount their attack. In truth, many among the knights had wanted to put the village to the sword as soon as they laid eyes on it- there, men walked side-by-side with the Enemy's agents openly, unabashed. But to act in haste would only harm their mission, their captain had said, so they stayed their hands, and bided their time. And at long last, the time had come.

It was noon when the troop entered the village. A few of the knights had taken up positions at the perimeter. But the majority marched directly into the village center. And at the front of this group was another knight, the captain. His armor was just like the others- pure white mail, and a helmet that completely hid his features, smooth and featureless, with only narrow slits just above where his eyes would be. The only mark that distinguished him as their leader was a long, broad stripe of red paint that began just above the right brow of his visor, down the side of his helmet, his breastplate, and all the way down to the cuisse on his right leg.

All activity in the village came to a stop. The armor of the knights was meant to strike fear in the hearts of the Enemy, but not one of their agents moved to flee. It seemed they were unaware of the Purifiers.

But they would learn.

Eventually, a villager approached. He was accompanied by a revolting creature that slithered along the ground. Her upper body appeared to be a woman's, but below her hips was a long snake body with red scales- some variety of lamia, the captain guessed. For several long moments, the two stared at the knights, apprehension clear on their faces. Until finally, the man asked, "Um, hello there. Can we… help you?"

The captain broke away from the others and stepped forward, looking down slightly at them man. "Are you the leader here?" he asked.

The man scratched his head nervously. "Well, no. But, if there's anything we can do for you, please don't hesitate to let us know."

The captain touched the bottom of his visor, feigning deep thought. "There is…  _one_  thing you can do for me," he finally said.

He the quickly drew his sword, before driving the blade deep into the man's stomach.

" _You can die._ "

The captain withdrew his sword. The man fell to one knee, clutching his stomach, surprise on hi face as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. The beast at his side slithered back, hands over its mouth in a feigned display of shock.

Then, all hell broke loose.

Scream of terror erupted from the surrounding villagers, who began to run away in all directions. As predicted. The captain held his sword aloft. "Perimeter team, move to intercept!"

The knights at the perimeter quickly intercepted the fleeing villagers, cutting them down without mercy. As they did, the captain turned to the rest of his men. "Everyone else, fan out and check these houses. Kill any survivors. Burn everything else."

"Yes sir!" the soldiers shouted in reply, and began spreading out, entering the houses.

The captain too began to search the village, stepping over the bodies of the inhabitants, until reaching a small house at the very edge of the village. He entered without a moment of hesitation, sword ready.

The occupant within froze. It was the lamia from before. But it wasn't alone, it's hands resting on the shoulders of another, smaller lamia. The smaller one didn't look like its mother, with yellow eyes and long, straight red hair. Rather, it looked like the man from the village center, with short black hair and blue eyes.

The older lamia wrapped itself around the smaller one. "Don't you come any closer!" it shouted, cradling the smaller lamia in her arms.

Without a word, the captain stepped into the house, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

A minute later, the captain emerged from the house, and calmly wiped away the blood on his sword with the crook of his elbow. As he sheathed his sword, another knight approached. "Captain, we've mopped up the last of the stragglers," he said.

The captain nodded, taking a quick look around. The village was quiet now, and most of the houses were now empty, charred shells. "Good work. Tell Osten to bring the Ember to the village center." Wordlessly, the knight saluted and hurried away. Before departing, the knight pulled a small vial full of red liquid from a pouch on his belt, and threw it at the door of the house he just left. When the glass broke, the fluid quickly came alight, and flames spread over the wooden building. He watched, ensuring his firebomb wouldn't blow out prematurely, before carrying on.

The rest of the knights were already assembled in the village center. The captains attention was quickly drawn by one knight in particular, who carried a long metal post with a small lantern mounted on the top. Upon laying eyes on the captain, the knight approached, and held out the post. "Here you are, Captain. I believe you should have the honor."

Nodding, the captain took the post into his hands, before he stabbed the post into the ground by his feet. At once, the lantern lit up in a brilliant blue light, and a faint white field was projected over the village. As soon as the barrier appeared, the bodies of the villagers suddenly came alight with small blue flames, as the ember of the Sacred Flame began to purify them of their taint. The bodies slowly burned down to ashes, which quickly blew away in the wind.

"Alright, we're clear!" the captain shouted.

The knights wasted no time in taking off their helmets. Thanks to the barrier projected by the lantern, the air was pure, free of the demonic energies that had corrupted it just moments before. At once, the calm silence they held evaporated, and the men began to excitedly chatter amongst themselves.

"Hahaha _ha! That_  was a fine hunt!"

"It's been ages since I've been in the field. I was worried my sword arm was getting flabby."

"…Couldn't even put up a decent fight."

The captain knocked his fist against his helmet, sending out a harsh clang that drew the other soldiers' attention. "You all did fine work today," he said. "The Enemy will learn that even outside the Great Barrier, they will find no safe haven in Alba."

The knights erupted into cheers, waving their weapons in the air. But another series of knocks silenced them.

"We will be returning to the capital shortly to report our success." The captain turned his gaze to two men in particular. "Hogarth, Danil, you will remain here to guard the Ember."

The two men in question looked to the captain: a portly man with curly dark hair and a bushy beard, and a thin, haggard young man with thin blonde hair. "Captain, we don't have the supplies for a long stay," the wiry man said- this one was Danil.

"There's a chantry in the village to the immediate north. We'll inform the praetor there of your situation when we depart. I'm certain he'll be more than happy to provide aid to a pair of Purifiers. Everyone else, helmets on. We're leaving in five minutes."


	2. The First to Fall

**1: The First to Fall**

_Six days later…_

The captain emerged from the Inquisition headquarters, a grand building of white marble topped by a gold and emerald dome. Many in the kingdom feared the Inquisition, but the captain did not. After all, as long as one walked in the light of the Sacred Flame, then they had nothing to fear. It didn't hurt that as a member of the Order of the Sword- better known by their nickname, "the Purifiers," he was technically a member of the Inquisition himself. He had come here to report the success of his mission to his superiors, and with this task complete, and with no other assignments to see to, the captain began to walk the streets of the capital, toward the middle district of the city.

Alba's capital, Solas, was a bustling city, as capitals tend to be. But Alba was not a normal kingdom, and thus, neither was Solas. For the Kingdom of Alba stood at the very edge of the monster realm. It hadn't always been this way, but as the monster realm relentlessly expanded, its neighbors were consumed one by one, until finally, Alba was almost completely surrounded by the monster realm.

But for well over a century now, Alba stood firm against the monsters, thanks to its secret weapon: the Sacred Flame. An inextinguishable magical fire kindled by the kingdom's founder, Saint Gabriel of Royes, the Sacred Flame projected a barrier, sixty miles in radius, that not only repelled monsters, but completely destroyed the demonic energies they produced. Such a weapon would be a tremendous benefit to all of humanity in the fight against monsters… but sadly, the Sacred Flame was the only one of its kind. Nobody had ever successfully replicated the process by which the Flame was first kindled, and all attempts to widen the barrier's radius had failed. Smaller barriers could be made by taking small fires- Embers- from the Sacred Flame, but taking from the Flame would cause the Great Barrier to shrink in turn- once, the Great Barrier had a radius of a hundred miles, but through Embers being taken to protect the kingdom's most distant cities, or simply being lost in expeditions into the monster realm, the Barrier has shrunk to its current size. The captain glanced back over his shoulder- behind the domed Inquisition headquarters, a tall stone pillar rose high into the sky, topped by a great golden lantern. Upon this grand pedestal, the Sacred Flame burned, forever keeping the forces of darkness at bay.

Solas was divided into three districts: the central governmental district, the residential district on the city's outer edge, and the district between them, appropriately named "the middle district." So, it didn't take long for the captain to reach his destination- a chantry building situated in the middle district. Most chantires were gaudy and ostentatious, decked with gold and all manner of other ornaments. But not this chapel. It was a simple wooden building (which stood out from the stone buildings around it), without adornments- not even a stained glass window. The only "decoration" was a small golden lantern hanging from the awning above the door. The captain entered without hesitation.

In the antechamber, he could hear a man speaking. The service had already begun, it seemed. So, as quietly as he could, the captain slipped through the second set of doors leading to the chapel, and seated himself on one of the pews at the back of the room.

The chapel was brilliantly lit by the sunlight streaming through the windows, and was surprisingly full- most seated in the other pews wore shabby clothes, having doubtlessly been turned away from the more well-off chantries. And across the room, on a small raised dais, stood a bald, somewhat portly priest. Like the chapel itself, the priest had a humble appearance- rather than wearing fine fabrics and elegant jewelry, his attire was a simple black robe, held in place by a length of rope. The captain began to listen to the priest's sermon:

"…Anyone, but especially women, who bed their spouses frequently, or who takes an inordinate amount of pleasure from the act, should be regarded with suspicion," hs said. "In the worst case, they may have fallen under the influence of the Great Enemy."

The priest paced across the dais. "Yes, the Barrier created by the Sacred Flame keeps our kingdom free from monster energy. But the Enemy is a wicked and duplicitous sort. They will use any means to see Alba in ruins, its people their slaves."

The priest turned to face the congregation. "But they will find that we will not be so easily tempted!" His voice grew louder and louder, his face redder, several veins standing out prominently on his bald head. "We are a beacon of hope to the world! The light of St. Gabriel's flame will banish the darkness, burn the Overlord to cinders, and shine over the world in a new dawn!" The priest finally stood still, sweating and huffing. "The Great Enemy is always watching. But, so are we. So long as we remain vigilant, and trust in the light of the Flame, then we shall never fall to the Enemy's depravity. Glory to Saint Gabriel. Glory… to mankind."

The congregation repeated the priest's words: "Glory to Saint Gabriel. Glory to mankind."

The priest took several breaths, and wiped his brow, before clasping his hands over his stomach. "And with that, we come to a close. At our next meeting, we will discuss how to determine if one has fallen under the sway of the Enemy. Thank you, and may the light of the Flame guide your path."

The people in the pews stood, and gathered their belongings. As they did, the captain walked down the center aisle, to the dais where the priest stood. The priest's eyes gleamed when he laid eyes on the captain. "Ah, Simon! You should have told me you were coming!"

Simon stopped just in front of the dais. "Sorry, Praetor. I just came back a few hours ago."

The priest stepped down from the dais, placing his hands on Simon's shoulders. "Come now, Simon, you don't need to be so formal. You can call me 'Felix.'"

Simon shifted slightly. "I  _do_  need to be so formal. At least when we're in this building."

"I suppose that's fair." Felix took away his hands, and turned. "Come, let's speak in my office."

The Kingdom of Alba did not follow the teachings of the Order of the Chief God. Rather, it followed its own set of guiding principles, laid out by Saint Gabriel, and codified by the Chantry established in his name. The Order classified the Chantry of St. Gabriel as an "unorthodox" religion, but because of its staunch anti-monster teachings, and because of the promise provided by the Sacred Flame, they nonetheless named both Alba and the Chantry as allies.

Felix led Simon through a door at the back of the chapel into his "office," in truth merely a small study at the very rear of the building. After taking a seat across from Simon at the desk in the center of the room, the priest asked, "Now, how can I help you? Are there any sins you wish to confess?"

"I just wanted to pay you a visit," Simon replied. "It's been awhile since I last stopped by."

Felix laughed. "Such a thoughtful young lad. I'm sure you'd make fine young woman very happy one day.

"Praetor…" Simon knew where the conversation was headed.

"You don't need to be ashamed," the praetor continued. "I realize it can be difficult for someone in your position to meet women. But I can help you with that. But you have to  _let me_  help you, Simon."

This was not a new conversation. Twice now, Praetor Felix had approached Simon, insisting that he take a wife. But Simon had no interest in marriage. He had a duty as a Purifier. Any other obligations, to a wife, a family, would come second to his duty to his kingdom. Simon looked down at his hands. "I don't need a wife, Praetor. All I need is my faith in the Flame, and your guidance."

Felix laughed again, his hand resting on his chin. "You truly are the ideal Purifier, Simon. It's easy to see why you were promoted to Captain at such a young age." He slowly stood, and circled around his desk.

"Alba needs soldiers like you, Simon," he said. "I must admit, when you're in the field, I tell the congregation of the deeds of Alba's Red Fang: your exploits, your loyalty, your unwavering resolve. You are truly an inspiration to us all." Felix rested a hand on Simon's shoulder. "But in the end, you are only one man. Imagine what could be accomplished if we had a thousand- no, even just a  _hundred_  men like you. Such a force could finally march into the monster realm, storm the Overlord's castle, and present her head to the godly people of the world."

"I simply strive to uphold my duty," Simon replied.

"Of course," Felix replied. "But you have a duty not just to the kingdom or the Inquisition, but to all the generations that would follow you." At that moment, there was a knock on the office door. "Ah, perfect timing."

Simon looked to the door in surprise, and stood. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Praetor. Were you meeting with someone?"

"I was. But if this is who I think it is, then you can stay right where you are." The praetor waddled to the door. When he opened it, he exclaimed, "Cassandra! Perfect timing! Please, come in, come in." He stepped aside, and a woman entered the room.

She was… lovely.

Simon would willingly admit that he didn't meet many women- his duties often took him far from Alba, sometimes for months on end, and being more susceptible to monster energies than men, women were barred from serving in the Purifiers. But even so, he knew this woman was beautiful. She resembled a fine statue: clear blue eyes, a delicate face, long blonde hair pulled into a braid. He looked then at her clothes: black boots, black trousers, and a black coat with silver buttons, a golden goblet embroidered on fabric just above her collarbone. She was an inquisitor, then- Simon had a similar uniform (with two golden crossed swords in place of the goblet), though he never wore it, preferring his armor. She was tall, too. Much taller than Felix, even taller than Simon.

The woman turned her gaze to Simon. "Is this him, Praetor?"

Felix nodded eagerly. "It is indeed."

The woman immediately walked up to Simon, looking him over. "I must admit, for Alba's infamous Red Fang, you're much more ordinary than I expected."

Simon gave the woman a confused look. It was far from the first time someone had made such a remark- with dark brown eyes, short, curly brown hair, a face most would describe as "boyish," and being a bit shorter than most men, he certainly didn't cut an intimidating image without his helmet. But what really confused him was how she addressed him. Almost everyone always called him by his rank- Captain. Only the praetor used that nickname. "I'm sorry, but do we know each other?"

Felix came to the woman's side. "Simon, this is Cassandra Rovais. We met by chance after a service, and I've been hoping to introduce you two."

Simon breathed a small sigh. He could only imagine what kind of stories the praetor had weaved about him. But the captain hid his exasperation, and simply asked, "I see." He glanced to the embroidered emblem again. "I see you're an inquisitor, but I don't recognize your emblem."

"I'm an agent of the Order of the Chalice," she replied, the pride audible in her voice.

Simon tilted his head slightly. "I can't say I'm familiar with it."

"We investigate the kingdom's internal affairs. Smuggling of illicit substances, and the like."

"Ah. I see." Simon wasn't sure what else to say.

Felix must have sensed Simon was struggling to keep the conversation going, because he then said, "You must understand, Cassandra, the Purifiers spend a great deal of time outside Alba's walls. I daresay most are more familiar with the monster realm than their own homeland." He then reached our, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. "But, this is hardly the place to get to know one another. It's a beautiful day outside. You should take advantage of it." Then, with surprising firmness, the praetor pushed the two out of the office, and into the chapel, shutting the door behind them.

Cassandra stared at the door in surprise, before looking to Simon. "Well. I suppose we don't have much choice but to take up the Praetor's offer. Shall we?"

 _Damn that old man…_ Simon thought to himself. But he simply said to Cassandra, "…of course."

* * *

"…and what about that man, the praetor?" Cassandra asked. "How do you know him? Is he your father?"

Simon shook his head. "No, nothing like that. He's just a family friend. After my father passed, the praetor… took me in."

A short silence fell between the two. Then Cassandra asked, "Well? Aren't you going to ask  _me_  any questions?"

Simon thought quickly for a few moments. "Yes, actually. There  _is_  something I was curious about. Your name, Rovais… that's the name of the governor of the province just east of Solas, isn't it?"

Cassandra nodded. "It is. The governor is my grandfather."

Simon blinked. "Your grandfather? Then that would make you a noble."  _A noble? What the hell are you thinking, Felix?_  he quickly thought. "Why join the Inquisition, then? Our stipend is pretty sizable, but I can't imagine you'd need it."

Cassandra gave a proud smile. "Let's just say that I have a passion for doing the right thing. I suppose that's something you and I have in common." She looked over to Simon. "What about you? Why did you join the Purifiers?"

Simon hung his head slightly. "…My father… hated monsters with a passion. He wanted to join himself, but as a former convict, he couldn't. So, he pressed me into doing it for him…"

As Felix suggested, Simon and Cassandra had left the chantry, and were wandering Solas's streets. Evening was approaching, but the bustle around the markets showed no signs of stopping any time soon. The two of them chatted as they wandered, Simon often struggling to keep the conversation moving forward- he'd never talked to a woman for so long in his life. Only his mother came close, and that had been many, many years ago.

Another uncomfortable silence had settled over the two. Simon could feel the heat beneath his breastplate, as he desperately tried to find a new topic of conversation. But he needn't have worried so much, because Cassandra then asked:

"Is it true? Has the Overlord truly declared to monsterkind that the Purifiers are to be killed on sight?"

Simon breathed a small sigh of relief. If there was one thing that he could spend all his time talking about, it was his work. "It is."

"That must be frightening for you," she said in a low voice.

Simon shook his head firmly. "Not at all, if anything, it's a badge of honor." He smiled. "It is a victory for us, even if only a small one."

Cassandra tilted her head slightly. "How so?"

Simon was silent for a moment as he pondered his reply. He wasn't sure how much he was allowed to tell. But then again, she was an Inquisitor- she must have known at least  _something._ "We know the truth about monsters. The truth that the Order keeps from  _their_  followers- that monster don't kill, but seek to tempt mankind into wickedness. That they would seek to  _kill_ the Purifiers rather than tempt us shows the strength of our conviction."

Cassandra blinked. "Wait. Monsters… don't kill people?"

Simon felt his blood run cold. She didn't know. His mind raced, as he tried to formulate some kind of excuse, when suddenly, something crashed into the both of them.

"Ah-  _hey!_ " Cassandra shouted indignantly. Simon turned his attention to… whatever had crashed into him. It was a figure with a heavy, tattered brown cloak that completely covered their body. They were sprawled on their hands and knees, and from the way their body heaved, it seemed they were breathing heavily.

Cassandra must have sensed that the figure was in some kind of distress, because her anger dissipated all at once. "Hey," she said. "Are you alright?"

But the figure didn't answer. It simply continued to breathe heavily.

Cassandra reached out her hand. "I'm a member of the Inquisition. If you're in some kind of danger, we can protect you."

Simon watched the two warily. The figure had turned toward Cassandra- their cloak had shifted exposing their arms and legs. They were… covered in dark fur. "Cassandra, get back!"

But it was too late. The cloaked figure sprang up, and swiped a furry claw at Cassandra. She cried out in pain as the figure's nails tore through her sleeve, leaving deep scratches on her forearm. The figure then threw its cloak away and tried to run away. Simon identified the beast at once- a werewolf.

Simon darted after the monster, drawing his sword. The Great Barrier sapped monsters of their strength, so the beast didn't get far. With ease, the captain reached out, and grabbed the monster's arm, before pulling it back and throwing it to the ground. The beast cried out as it fell against the flagstone ground, back-first. Before it could rise, Simon stepped up to it, raised his sword, and stabbed it down into the monster's chest.

The werewolf cried out- Simon had to admit, the beasts were very good at feigning agony. And despite its smaller body, this creature was not a child. He showed no mercy, driving the sword deeper. It screamed even louder, thrashing, but its struggles soon ceased, and the beast fell, limp.

The commotion had drawn a crowd, who were quickly gathering. Simon could hear the people talking. "What happened?" "Look at the body! It's burning up!" "A monster?" "How in Gabriel's name it it get past the barrier?"

"It's alright," Simon said, cleaning and sheathing his sword. "I'm with the Purifiers. The situation has been resolved. You may carry on with your business." He wasn't actually sure what the protocol was for dispatching monsters in the barrier, but saying that kind of thing seemed the most appropriate action.

The crowd was beginning to disperse when Simon noticed someone approaching. He looked, to see Cassandra, clutching her arm. "Well. I see that the Praetor's stories weren't exaggerations," she said. "I'm alright, by the way. It's just a few scratches."

Simon said nothing.

Cassandra blinked, confused by Simon's silence. "Simon? What is it?"

Simon continued to say nothing as he drew his sword again.

"What are you doing?" Cassandra asked in shock, stumbling back. She then followed his gaze, down to her wound, her eyes widening in sudden realization. "W-Wait, Simon! This is-"

Her pleas fell upon deaf ears. Inquisitor of the Order of the Chalice, heir to a noble family, a potential bride-to-be… all of that vanished in an instant. To Simon, she was one thing now, and one thing only:

An enemy.

Simon pulled back, aiming a swing at the woman's left side. She hastily drew her dagger to block, but staggered from his blow. From her speed, it was clear she had at least  _some_  experience. But even so, she was still outmatched- Simon was no ruffian or smuggler, but a trained soldier. He pulled back and struck again with an overhead swing. She tried to block, but the strike caused the dagger to fly from her hands and clatter to the ground. Now he had his chance. He drew back his blade, and thrust it with all his might at the woman.

She tried to leap to the side. But she wasn't fast enough. The blade sank into the left side of her chest, just under her breast.

She gasped in pain. Remorselessly, Simon grabbed her shoulder and pulled her closer, driving the blade further into her chest. She cried out, spluttering, coughing up a bit of blood into his face. Simon didn't flinch. He'd stared death in the face countless times, watched the life drain from his foes more times than he could recall. This was no different.

Shaking, the woman brought up her hands, and gripped the blade of Simon's sword. She pushed, but he didn't budge. Not that her actions would have helped. He struck a mortal blow, and she would die at any moment. "H… how could…" she whispered. Then, she collapsed.

Simon withdrew his sword from the woman's body. Calmly, he wiped the blade of his sword in the crook of his elbow, and sheathed it once more as a pair of guards approached. They wore chainmail suits beneath blue tunics, a golden lantern stitched into the fabric. "What's going on here?" one of the guards demanded.

The crowd, which had returned, began shouting all manner of answers, mostly along the lines of, "That man just murdered that woman!"

One of the guards approached Simon, and said angrily, "Explain yourself!"

Simon looked down at the woman's body. "This woman was attacked by a werewolf and infected with monster energy," he replied. "What I did here was a mercy."

The guard looked over to his companion. "Well?"

"The Purifier's story is true," the other guard answered. "That woman  _was_  attacked by some kind of monster."

"I see." The first guard looked back to Simon. "Sir, regardless of your reasons, I'm going to have to place you under arrest."

Simon flinched. "What? Why?"

"Humans… cannot be infected by monster energy within the Great Barrier." The guard retrieved a pair of manacles from his belt. "I need you to come with me."

"I acted to protect the kingdom! You would arrest me for  _that?_ " Simon asked, indignant.

The guard began to glare, reaching for his sword. " _The courts_  will decide if your actions were justified. Now, will you come quietly, or not?" The second guard took notice, and turned to face Simon, drawing his sword.

The captain huffed, and held out his arms. "Fine then. I'll surrender myself. But I'm sure the courts will agree that I did the right thing."

* * *

Simon was wrong.

The next day, he was brought before a judge. At first, it seemed that Simon would be commended for his actions, and then released. But when it was revealed that Cassandra was a noble, the court's opinion toward him shifted dramatically. He was quickly found guilty, not only of murder, but treason, and his sentence was decided in mere minutes: death. Simon could only look on in shock as he was put in chains and dragged from the courtroom.

The next few days passed in a blur. Simon could only seem to remember fragments: being taken from the castle dungeons and hauled before the Inquisition tribunal, being stripped of his position, and then being thrown into another cell. He recalled Felix visiting at least once. He shouted, the veins popping out of his head like they did during the more fiery parts of his sermons. But Simon couldn't hear the praetor's words. From the moment the manacles were placed on his wrists, it felt as though he were cut off from the rest of the world. He said nothing to anyone, paid no heed to anyone's words. He simply sat, and let the world race past him.

Then, the day finally came. Simon was pulled roughly from his cell by an inquisitor (he noticed the golden goblet embroidered into his uniform), and led from the dungeon beneath the Inquisition headquarters to the square outside. He was then marched up the wooden steps of a large platform, where a man in a black hood stood before a stone block, a long sword in his hands.

He was roughly turned to face the crowd. It was quite large. But then again, the execution of a Purifier, defenders of the realm- and a captain, no less- would be quite the spectacle. "Simon Ozwell," the inquisitor holding him said aloud, "for the crimes of murdering a noble and treason against king and country, you have been sentenced to death by beheading. Have you any last words?"

The words finally reached Simon, and he suddenly awakened, as if from a stupor. But her had nothing to say. He could not deny his actions. And surely, saying anything would only serve to make things worse. His head low, he answered in a low voice, "No sir."

Without another word, Simon was forced to his knees. His chest was laid against the stone block, his head hanging over the edge. He heard the hooded man grunt as he lifted the sword over his head.

There was a sharp sound as the sword fell. And with a single stroke, Simon's head was cleaved from his neck.


	3. Banished from Death

**2: Banished from Death**

 

Simon awoke with a gasp. He was lying down on his stomach against a cold, hard surface. He quickly rose to his feet, looking down at himself. He wasn’t in his armor- rather, he wore the rough, sackcloth shirt and trousers he’d been given after his imprisonment.

But, what he was seeing was impossible. He heard the swing of the executioner’s sword, felt the blade bite into the back of his neck. He had died. Or at least, he was supposed to be dead. He reached up, and touched his neck. But his head was firmly attached to his shoulders. There was no mark, or scar to indicate his head had ever been missing.

Simon looked ahead of him, to be greeted by a world of grey. It was nothing more than a flat expanse of grey stony ground, with dark grey clouds rolling in the sky above. There were no trees, no flowers, no grass, no hills, no mountains, no landmarks of any kind- just an endless, flat grey field. He staggered, bringing up his hand to shield his face from a sudden, powerful wind. But in spite of its strength, the gust of wind made no sound- in fact, this whole world seemed to be silent, save for the distant echoes of his breaths.

Simon looked left, then right, then behind him. But wherever he looked, he was greeted by the same sight- a flat grey plain that stretched on to a black horizon. Slowly, it began to dawn on him where he was.

It was Hell.

It had to be.

Nowhere in the world could such a strange place exist. Even within the monster realm, he’d never seen such a place.

Simon began to sink to his knees, a cold despair winding around his heart like a noose. This… couldn’t be right. Everything he had done, had been for the sake of Alba. Perhaps his actions with Cassandra had been made in poor judgment, but surely one rash decision wasn’t enough to condemn to an eternity of… _whatever_ this place would do to him.

But then, a sound came to Simon’s ears. A new sound, that he did not make. It sounded like… a whisper. He stood, and looked out over the grey world. “Hello?” he called. His voice echoed across the empty expanse. But there was no answer. At first, he thought he must have imagined it, but then he heard the whisper again. And this time, he determined its source- it was floating on the wind blowing against him.

So, Simon began to walk into the wind. It was hard- the wind seemed to grow stronger and stronger with every step he took, threatening to knock him right off his feet. But he was going the right way- the whispers, though indistinct, steadily became louder. Simon didn’t know how long he walked, but just when the wind was at its strongest, to the point that he couldn’t even lift his legs for fear of being knocked back, the whisper finally became intelligible:

“…you are banished from death.”

Banished? From death? What in Gabriel’s name did that mean? Simon squinted as he looked into the wind, but there was nothing there. “Show yourself!” he shouted.

Another powerful gust washed over Simon, knocking him off his feet. Simon looked up as he climbed back to his feet- standing just a few feet away was a figure who certainly hadn’t been there moments ago, glowing in a blinding white light. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the light, and the figure’s details became visible. The first thing he noticed was that the figure had no legs, merely a long wispy tail. It was then that he noticed the figure was also transparent; he could see right through her body, to the endless grey plain behind. The figure was completely white; her hair, trailing down to her rather _wide_ hips, her long-sleeved jacket that seemed to cling a bit too tightly to her bust, her tail, all of her was white. Everything… except for an image of a goblet, tinged a pale gold, embroidered into the fabric of her jacket just above her left collarbone.

Simon’s mouth fell open as soon as he laid eyes on the figure’s face.

“You are banished from death,” Cassandra Rovais said.

Simon stumbled back from the figure. “Wha- n-no. This isn’t possible. Y-Your soul should have been destroyed by the barrier after you were infected!”

Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest, her face set into a hard glare. “And you were executed. Yet here we both are.” Her voice was… strange. It echoed peculiarly when she spoke, as though the echo begun _before_ she started speaking. Although Simon had never seen this species of monster in person, he had an idea of what Cassandra had become: a ghost. He couldn’t say how long he had been… _dead_ , but it seemed that the small amount of monster energy she’d been exposed to had been enough to turn her.

Simon’s mind roiled with questions. How had Cassandra survived? How had _he_ survived? And…  “What is this place?” he asked aloud.

“It is the world between,” Cassandra said passively. “The boundary of life and death.”

“Between life and death?” Simon asked, confused.

Cassandra looked at him stoically. “We are bound together, cast adrift within the walls of the living world. As long as we are bound, death will not come to you, no matter how desperately you seek it.”

Simon reached out to grab the ghostly Cassandra, but his hand simply passed through her shoulder without affecting her in the slightest. He chided himself for thinking that would work, before settling with a formidable glare. “ _Break the bond._ ”

She looked at Simon with what he thought was… sadness. “I’m afraid I don’t have the power to do that.”

“Why not!?” Simon demanded.

“ _You’ll find out soon enough_.” Cassandra’s voice changed again- he could hear a much harsher voice overpowering her own. Then, the ground beneath Simon’s feet gave way, and he began to fall.

 

* * *

 

Simon awoke with a start. This time, he was on his back. He blinked several times to clear his vision, and realized he was looking up at a stone ceiling. His body was stiff, and at first, could barely even turn his head, much less sit up.

“Aw dammit, he woke up,” a voice suddenly said. It was harsh, but undeniably feminine. And, it sounded… familiar, too. The voice continued, “Well whatever. I can fix this.” A black stalk entered his field of view. The tip opened, revealing a single eye, glowing red. “ _Just go back to slee-_ ”

Simon summoned all his strength, and moved his arm, reaching up, and poked the eye with his finger.

“ _Agh!_ ” The tentacle quickly withdrew. Now that he was no longer beneath its gaze, Simon could suddenly move again. He quickly sat up, climbing off the table he’d been laid on, and gained his bearings.

He was in a stone room, with a wooden floor. It was dark, and no torches had been lit. The air was filled with a strange, sickly-sweet smell. Simon recognized it from his training- it was the natural scent of monster energy. And from how overpowering it was, he must have been somewhere in the monster realm. A hiss of pain drew Simon’s attention, and he remembered he wasn’t alone. He looked behind him to the source, and laid eyes on the other presence in the room.

The creature there was… revolting. A lithe figure that _resembled_ a human woman, but clearly wasn’t, with ashen grey skin and black hair, completely naked save for a small series of scales covering her unmentionables. It had a large, single, blood-red eye set into its face, and from her back sprouted numerous tentacles, each ending in another of those blood-red eyes. Simon knew this creature from the Inquisition’s records: a gazer.

The gazer cradled one of its tentacles in its hands, the eye shut tightly, and shot him a vicious glare. “Ah… that _hurt_ , you bastard!”

Simon raised his fists without saying a word. Unarmed though he may have been, he wasn’t willing to submit without a fight. He tensed, the charged, pulling back his arm for a strong right hook.

The gazer fixed her many eyes on Simon, and held out her hand. “ _Stop._ ”

All at once, Simon’s body locked up, his muscles stiffening as if they were suddenly made of stone. He tried, but his body simply refused to move any further. _What did you just do to me?_ he tried to say. But his body was completely frozen- even his jaw and tongue were locked in place, so all that came out was an unintelligible growl. He then remembered: gazers were masters of hypnosis, and by looking her in the eye, he had doubtlessly fallen under her spell.

The gazer smiled, now that he was frozen. “Now now, there’s no need for that. We _did_ save you, after all.”

 _We?_ Simon thought. It seemed only the gazer was in the room with him. But with even his eyes frozen in place, he couldn’t be sure.

The gazer strode up to him, her hips swaying as she walked. “You’re pretty tough, aren’tcha? Most men would have been under my spell the moment they woke up. Guess you Alban men really are a breed apart.” She laid a hand on his face- he growled in reply. “Oh, I love when they fight back. I have ta warn ya, though- I’m a real fighter, too.” She wrapped her leg around his waist, and leaned in close to his ear. “ _Especially in bed_.”

Simon could feel his face burning. He’d always been told that monsters would say and do anything to deceive normal humans, and to ignore their words. But being completely frozen, it was very difficult to ignore the way the gazer touched him, and gently blew on his ear.

But then, another voice spoke, female, and unfamiliar: “That’s enough, Zarga.” Over the gazer’s shoulder, Simon saw some kind of… shadow coalesce against the stone wall, and a figure stepped out from the darkness. Like so many monsters, it _appeared_ to be a woman at first glance, but Simon knew better. This new monster had long, pure white hair, skin as pale as the moon, and ruby-red eyes. Two snow-white wings sprouted from her back, a pair of curved black horns grew from her temples, and she wore a coal black dress with a low hemline, exposing her shoulders, and not insignificant portions of her chest and stomach. Simon was confused- he was certain the newcomer was _some_ manner of monster, but he couldn’t identify what kind.

The gazer looked back at the new monster. “Aw, let me have my fun with him.”

The white-haired monster put her hands on her hips, and gave the gazer a stern look. “ _Enough_ , Zarga.”

The gazer stepped back with a huff. “Fine, fine. Happy now?”

The white-haired monster’s expression didn’t change. “Let him go.”

The gazer huffed, then snapped her fingers. Suddenly, Simon almost dropped to the floor, like a marionette with all its strings cut. He caught himself just in time, stood up, and looked to the white-haired monster. “Welcome, Simon,” she said.

Simon narrowed her eyes at the monster. “How do you know me?” Sure, Simon was-  _…had been_ a captain in the Purifiers, but he had been just one of many. It would make much more sense for the white-haired monster to know the king’s identity, or the Grand Inquisitor’s, or even the Purifiers’ Supreme Commander. Not a random, low-ranked captain.

The white-haired monster narrowed her eyes in turn. “Do you really think I wouldn’t know about the man who’s slaughtered so many of my kind, Mr. ‘Red Fang?’” she asked. “I know _exactly_ who you are, Captain Simon Ozwell.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and smirked. “But I suppose you can’t really call yourself ‘Captain’ anymore, can you?”

Simon was speechless. This was much more than simple intelligence-gathering. When an Inquisitor is expelled from the order, like he was, records of their deeds were purged of all mention of the offender- in essence, they were erased from history. But she spoke as though she was there, and borne witness to everything that had happened in his last few days.

“‘How do I know all that,’ you wonder? I can see it all over your face. Well…” The white-haired monster then looked at him. Her gaze was strange, as if she weren’t looking at _him_ , but past him, to something only she could see. “How long do you plan to keep hiding, Cassandra?”

Simon’s body then began to glow. He gasped in shock when a white figure emerged, and floated next to him. He recognized her right away. “C-Cassandra?” he stammered.

“You’re friend here told us all kinds of interesting things about you,” the gazer said.

Simon recalled his dream- that strange other world, Cassandra’s words about being “banished from death,” and the bond that had been formed between them. He turned to the ghost. “Wait, then that place, everything you said… it was true?”

Cassandra didn’t answer, looking away in shame. So the white haired-monster answered in her stead: “It is. The two of you have a most peculiar arrangement, it seems.” She smiled. “An arrangement that will be very useful to me.”

Simon shot the woman a glare. “ _You’re out of your mind if you think I’m doing anything to help you._ ”

The monster crossed her arms, a smug smile on her face. “And… what? Do you think you can just go back to the life you were living before?”

“I won’t be your puppet!” Simon snapped. Then, a realization came to him. “Wait. _You_ .” He strode toward the white-haired monster. “ _You did this to me, didn’t you!?_ ”

The gazer quickly stepped between them, all her eyes focused on Simon. “ _Back. Off._ ” Against his own will, Simon’s feet stopped, and he stepped backward.

The monster’s smile vanished. “And why would I do that?” she asked.

Simon pointed at the white-haired monster. “Because you want what all monsters want. You want to destroy the Sacred Flame and bring ruin to Alba!”

The white-haired woman put her hands on her hips. “Well, of course. That _is_ the objective Mother gave to me, after all. And while someone with your knowledge and talents _would_ be useful to completing that objective, I assure you, I have nothing to do with your current condition.”

Despite the distance between them, Simon raised his fists to the monster. “ _I don’t believe you._ ”

The white-haired monster let out a sigh. “Very well.” She snapped her fingers- suddenly, a set of white armor appeared on Simon’s body. There was no mistake- the armor he wore was genuine Purifier armor. He recognized the specialized seals meant to keep out monster energies, a unique system only the Inquisition’s armorsmiths knew how to craft. The sword and the firebombs in the pouch on his belt, too, were standard issue. He wondered how the white-haired monster had acquired them- they were far too detailed to be mere replicas.

But Simon’s attention was drawn away from his equipment when the white-haired monster began to speak again: “I’ll make you a wager. You and I are going to fight. If I win, then you’ll pledge yourself to my service. But if you can beat me, here and now, then I’ll break the bond between you and Cassandra, and let you die a peaceful death.”

Simon narrowed her eyes at the monster again. “You said you didn’t have anything to do with the bond.”

The monster casually looked down at her fingernails. “That’s true. I didn’t make it. But I _can_ unmake it.” She looked up to Simon. “Now, shall we begin?”

Simon didn’t trust the monster’s words. He was certain she’d somehow kept him alive, to use him as a tool against Alba. But he was in no mood to press her further. Not when he had a duel to win. So he put on his helmet, locking it into place. “I hope you’re ready for me.”

The white-haired monster didn’t answer. She simply crossed her arms over her chest with a smug smile.

A hot flame flared in Simon’s chest. In a flash, he drew his sword, throwing the scabbard aside, and charged the white-haired monster, determined to show her not to take him so lightly.

Casually, white-haired monster flicked one of her hands to the right. Instantly, Simon was yanked to the right, as if pulled by an invisible rope, and slammed into the stone wall, _hard_. She flicked her hand left, and he flew across the room, slamming into the opposite wall. She flicked her hand up- Simon was slammed into the ceiling, before dropping to the floor with a pained wheeze.

Simon struggled to rise. Everything hurt. It hurt just to breathe. Part of him wanted to simply lay down and submit then and there… until the white-haired monster spoke again: “I _do_ hope this isn’t the best you have to offer, Simon.” The pain vanished as fire surged through his body, and he darted toward the demon. He swung his sword with all his might- she smiled, before dissolving into a black fog that vanished before his blade could cut her.

Simon looked around the room. But the white-haired monster was nowhere in sight. But though he couldn’t _see_ her, he could certainly _hear_ her. “How many monsters have you killed?” she asked. “How many innocent lives did you snuff out? Can you even put a number to it?”

“Can _you?_ ” Simon snapped in turn.

“No. But I can smell their blood on you.” Simon heard the sound of something sharp cutting through the air. He turned, sword raised, just in time to block the white-haired monster’s arm. It had lengthened, growing into a twisted black claw that looked like it could rend metal with ease. He tried to push her back, but she was strong. Much stronger than someone her size should have been. “The scent of their blood hangs over you like a cloud.”

She held up her other hand. A powerful blast emanated from her palm, knocking Simon back and sending his sword flying from his grasp. Pain flared through his body, and he struggled to roll over and climb back onto his feet. “But I’m not just some villager you can slaughter with impunity. I am the Lilim Velvet, the thirteenth daughter of the Overlord. I possess more power than you can possibly imagine. You could never hope to defeat me.”

Simon finally managed to push himself into a kneeling position, the blood in his veins like ice. He didn’t know what to do. All the Inquisition's texts had said that lilims possessed power second only to the Monster Overlord herself. And it was clear that the texts vastly understated their strength. It was beyond any monster he’d faced before- beyond _anything_ he could have even imagined. And now he was disarmed… not that his sword seemed to be much help.

But then he remembered. He wasn’t _entirely_ disarmed. He reached into the pouch on his belt and counted the vials within: five in total. The firebombs might not be able to hurt a lilim, but if set off all at once, they would make quite an explosion. If nothing else, he could at least use the distraction to make an escape. He quickly glanced around the room. Behind him, and slightly to the right, was a wooden door- he didn’t know where it lead, but that door was likely his best chance of escape.

The lilim approached, the smug smile on her face once more. “What’s the matter, Simon? Do you finally concede?”

Simon gripped the vials tightly in his hand. “…you’re right,” he said. “I’m not strong enough to beat you.”

The demon smiled upon hearing this. But her smile vanished when Simon continued, “But I don’t have to. All I need… _is enough time to run away!_ ” He then threw all the vials at the lilim with all his might.

The lilim wrapped her wings around her body for protection. The vials hit their mark, letting out a bright flash and a tremendous burst of heat. “ _Agh! Son of a bitch!_ ” he heard the gazer shout. Good- if she was blinded by the flash, it meant it couldn’t hinder his escape. Without waiting, Simon turned and rushed to the door, ramming it with his shoulder. He almost laughed with relief when it crashed open without resistance, and he sprinted down the stone hallway.

Simon stole a glance out a window as he ran down the hall. It was dark outside, but he had a feeling that wherever he was, it was high above the ground. He needed to find a set of stairs. He slowed, trying each of the doors he passed, but none would open, seemingly locked.

“ _Running away, are we?_ ” he heard the lilim call. And from the footsteps reverberating through the wooden floor, she was fast approaching. He couldn’t check every door before she caught up with him. He thought, wondering what to do, when…

“Simon!” he heard Cassandra call. He looked- her ghostly figure was floating in the air outside a nearby window. “Out here!” she called again. So Simon came to the window, and looked out.

The brick on the outside of the building was covered with some kind of strange black vines. He grabbed them, and pulled with all his might, but they continued to grip the stone firmly. This was it- Cassandra had found an escape route for him. Simon stepped up onto the windowsill, and reached out, gripping the vines with both hands. He then pulled one foot from the windowsill, then the other. The vines held. But there was no time for a sigh of relief, and he began climbing down as quickly as he could. He kept his eyes on the wall, focusing only on moving his hands and feet down the wall, one at a time: left arm, right arm, left leg, right leg.

He made it about eight feet down when he heard the lilim shout, “A-ha! There you are!” He looked up- the demon was in the window, looking down at him. Without hesitation, she raised an arm, a large fireball igniting in the air above her finger tips, and threw it down at him. Simon didn’t think- he simply threw himself to the right, out of the fireball’s range. He grabbed the vines, but the sudden force was too much for the vines to bear, and they tore away from the wall.

“ _Aaaaaaahhhh- Oouf!_ ” Simon screamed as he plunged downward for another fifteen feet, before hitting the ground. He rolled from the impact, his body pulsing from the pain. But he was outside, about to break free from the lilim’s clutches. He would never forgive himself if he was caught now. So he forced himself to rise, despite the burning in his limbs. He staggered back to his feet, and stole a glance up at the window, where the lilim was still standing, looking down at him. Then, he turned his back her, and started running- or rather, _limping_ away as fast as he could.

The lilim stood in the window, watching the white-clad knight limp away into the darkness. Stopping him would have been trivial… but she decided to let him go.

The gazer rushed up to the window alongside the lilim. Her many eyes were squinting, not having fully recovered from the flash of the firebombs. “Why didn’t you let me stop him, Lady Velvet?”

Velvet continued to watch the white figure, until it was entirely consumed by the shadows. “He’ll be back. One way or another. He has nowhere else to go.”

* * *

 

It was a while before Simon finally stopped running. It was strange, though- even though he had run as far and as fast as he did, only the pain in his body slowed him down. He didn’t feel tired, even with all his armor on. It must have been a side-effect of being exposed to monster energy. Simon double-checked the seals on his armor, ensuring none were damaged- as long as they were all intact, then he wouldn’t be contaminated further.

As Simon stood, unsure of what to do next, his body began to glow. A white figure emerged from within his own body, and turned to face him. It was Cassandra, or rather, the ghost that resembled her. For a moment, Simon was shocked, but collected himself. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you, didn’t I?” she replied. “We’re bound together.” The way Cassandra spoke now was… different. It still had an echo, but the _manner_ in which she spoke felt more… _natural_.

“Why are you helping me?”

Cassandra hung her head. “Everything that’s happened to you so far… it’s my fault.” She turned away. “When you… killed me in Solas, I felt myself leave my body. I know the Barrier is supposed to repel monsters, but I felt like… like I was _melting_. So, I did the only thing I could think of to get away from the barrier: I went… inside you.” She turned back to face Simon. “After, that,  I could see everything. And after you were executed, we ended up in… that place. I was trying to find you, but… that lilim found me first. I didn’t want to say anything, but that monster, Zarga, she made tell them everything.”

Simon didn’t say anything. He simply glared in silence.

Cassandra floated closer to Simon. “I’m sorry. But I was so scared. I didn’t know what was happening, and it hurt so much. I… I just didn’t want to die.”

Simon turned his back on the ghost. “It is better to die pure than to live tainted,” he answered. It was one of the mantras he learned as a Purifier. Of course, he had no room to say that, seeing as how he himself was now both somehow still alive _and_ corrupted.

Cassandra looked down at her hands. “Well, I might have a problem with that,” she said. She then floated around Simon so she was in view. “What should we do now?”

Simon was quiet for several moments as he contemplated their next move. “…We need to get to Solas. They have to know that there’s a lilim out here.”

Cassandra floated closer to Simon. “I’m a ghost. And you were executed. What makes you think the Inquisition will listen to anything we say?”

That… was a good question. Simon was a traitor. A traitor who had been executed. If he came back, it would raise all manner of questions that even _he_ wouldn’t be able to answer. But… where else could he go? Certainly not back to that lilim to be her plaything. And if he turned and ran, knowing that his kingdom, the land of his birth was threatened, he could never live with himself.

Cassandra let out an exasperated sigh when Simon didn’t answer. “Okay then. Setting aside the fact we don’t even know if they’ll let us into the kingdom, how do we even get to Solas from here?”

That was another good question. But it was one Simon was confident he could answer. He checked his pouch again. It seemed the lilim’s recreation of his armor was more accurate than she intended, because he found what he was looking for- a map of Alba, and the surrounding regions. He unfolded and inspected it.

Because of the dangers presented by the ambient energies, much of the monster realm was unexplored by Alban citizens. But, there was a portion of the monster realm that was still mapped in the kingdom’s records- the so-called “Lostlands,” the forty miles between the kingdom’s current and former borders. And based on what Simon had seen of the castle and its surroundings, he had reason to believe the two of them were in the Lostlands.

Eventually, Simon called out, “I think I know where we are,” and pointed to a mark in the southeastern portion of the map.

Cassandra read the text written there. “Fort Galuade? Are you sure?”

Simon explained his reasoning: “I had a look at that castle when I was running away. Monsters normally build in their own style, but that castle followed the standard design for Alban military fortifications. Designs that haven’t needed to be changed in over a hundred years. That means we’re somewhere in the Lostlands. Since there weren’t any ruins in the surrounding area, it must have been a fortress instead of a town or city. As for which fort… look around.”

Cassandra did- on all sides, gently rolling hills covered in purple grass surrounded them.

Simon continued, “We’re in the plains. Fort Galuade is the only fortress in the plains; all the others are in the mountains along the old southern border.”

“Meaning…?” Cassandra asked.

“Meaning that Solas should be…” He scanned the horizon- he saw the moon, hanging low in the sky, tinted red by the dark energies of the monster realm, and watched it for a minute. Slowly, but surely, it was rising. So Simon turned his back to it, and pointed ahead and to his right, his best estimate for northwest. “…in that direction.” He began walking. “Let’s go.”

Cassandra floated to his side. “You seem pretty confident. I hope you’re right about this.”

“I know I’m right,” Simon replied firmly. “Orientation was one of the first things I learned in the Purifiers. It’s a basic skill when you’re in the field.” He looked over to Cassandra. “Honestly, I’m surprised _you_ don’t know how to do it. Didn’t your instructors teach you any survival skills?”

“I was… technically still in training when we met,” Cassandra replied sheepishly. “My instructor and I hadn’t even left the capital yet…”


	4. Homecoming

**3: Homecoming**

It would take a week, before Simon finally sighted the border between Alba and the monster realm. Or, at least, he thought a week had passed. It was always dark in the monster realm, whether day or night, and without the sun, it was difficult to measure any length of time. But however long it had taken, Simon never stopped to eat the food of the land, or even took off his helmet. In spite of that, he never seemed to get hungry or tired. He and Cassandra _did_ stop, but only ever to hide from the occasional roving band of monsters, never from exhaustion. Simon quickly noticed this, and asked Cassandra what she thought of it.

"Maybe, it has something to do with our bond," she replied, after much thought. "Ghosts don't need food or sleep, so… maybe that has something to do with it." Simon didn't respond to this. He couldn't say with any certainty that Cassandra wasn't being controlled by that gazer and her lilim master, but at the same time, she seemed completely clueless about her abilities as a ghost, and about the bond they shared. He could only hope that the link between them wasn't further contaminating him with monster energy.

Eventually however, the two reached the border. There was a very clear divide between Alba and the monster realm, as though two very distant regions of the world had been carved out with a knife and set down beside one another. Even the skies were different, with a literal line between Alba's blue sky and the monster realm's black one. Right inside Alba's border, a tall white wall stood, fifteen feet high, with houses and all manner of buildings within. Everything on Alba's side wavered- according to Simon's studies, this wavering was a visible distortion in the flow of mana, caused by the Sacred Flame's barrier. In contrast, the monster realm was barren, without even a blade of grass visible. The Purifiers took care to ensure that nothing from the monster realm could encroach upon the border undetected, and thus, great swaths of land were put to the torch, leaving no place to hide.

"What is this place?" Cassandra's voice asked.

Simon looked around, but he didn't see her. "Where are you?"

It took a moment for Cassandra to answer, "I'm… inside you. If we're going into Alba, I'll have to keep myself hidden."

That was a fair enough point, Simon supposed. So he answered her question. "This is the town of Esgaroth. The Purifiers use it as a staging area for expeditions into the monster realm." It was a place Simon was quite familiar with. He had passed under the iron portcullis separating the town from the monster realm more times than he could count. Even from his distance, he could see soldiers clad in white armor patrolling along the top of the walls, and along the town's streets.

"How will we get in?" Cassandra asked.

"Don't you worry about that," Simon replied. Then, he marched up to a great gate set into the wall. He held up his fist, the universally understood signal for the gatekeeper to open the gate, but nothing happened. Rather, the guards atop the wall called out, and more guards gathered behind the portcullis, four in all. Each was armed with a spear, drawn back to strike at him through the metal lattice.

" _Hold_ ," the guard on the middle left said. "What's your name, rank, and purpose, soldier?"

Simon had expected this situation, and spent a few hours formulating a plausible cover story. Now, he just needed to put on a convincing performance. "I'm private Victor White, from Solas's Second Purifier Division," he answered. "I was sent on a mission to retrieve the personal effects of a fallen comrade."

The guards looked to one another. "By _yourself?_ " the guard on the far right asked, incredulous.

"I requested to go alone. The personal effects…" Simon tried to add a touch of sadness to his voice. "…belonged to a dear friend of mine." He lowered his gaze. "Sadly… I failed in my mission."

The guards looked to one another again, before lowering their spears. "Very well," the middle left guard said. "Proceed directly to the field commander's office and report your mission status at once." The guard held up his fist- a great grinding sound filled the air, and slowly, the portcullis began to rise, allowing Simon entry.

Simon passed through the gate and the rippling in the air, surprised that they allowed him through so easily. Then all at once, he felt an invisible force squeeze his chest. He gasped, but, with people so close by, tried to keep quiet. Both Purifiers and normal citizens moved about, but it seemed they hadn't noticed Simon's plight.

The former captain put a hand to his chest. Every time he exhaled, it felt as though a rope tightened around his body, keeping him from inhaling. "What… what is this?" he gasped.

"So you can feel it, too," Cassandra replied. "This… is what the Great Barrier does to monsters." Her voice was strained, as though she'd suffered a terrible injury, but was doing her best to hide it.

Simon tried his best to take a deep breath, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "We have… to keep moving." And he pressed on. Simon had walked through the streets of Esgaroth dozens of times, but now, he felt as though he were walking up a steep hill, with heavy weights tied to his arms and legs. Every step drained him more than the last- in spite of himself, he hunched over, hand on his chest, though it did little to relieve his discomfort. But still, he pressed on, gaining only the occasional curious glance from passers-by.

But, weariness eventually forced Simon to stop. He ducked into a small alley between two buildings, and leaned against the wall, trying and failing to catch his breath.

"I don't think this is going to work," Cassandra said, her voice still strained. "We'll never reach Solas like this."

Simon didn't respond as he took several breaths. Cassandra was right. He wasn't even a hundred feet into the barrier- if he was this exhausted already, they would never make it to the capital. But they couldn't just leave. There had to be something they could do- at the very least, there had to be _someone_ they could pass a message onto.

And Simon then remembered. He took in a breath, before replying: "We need… to find… a chantry. The praetor there… can send a message… to Felix."

"Felix?" Cassandra sounded surprised. "Can he… help us?"

"He's… the only one who can," Simon replied. He staggered away from the wall, and repeated, "We need to find a chantry."

Simon stepped out of the alley, and scanned the nearby buildings for any signs of a chantry. His brief rest didn't provide him any respite- if anything, he was even _more_ exhausted than before. But thankfully, his search didn't last long.

Across the street, a few buildings down, stood a gaudy structure of white stone with a golden domed roof; the dome was capped by a golden lantern caging a large sapphire stone carved in the shape of a flickering flame. That had to be the place. Simon staggered down the streets, stumbled up the steps, and forcefully threw the wooden doors leading into the chantry open. It had been hard enough to breathe before, but the climb up the steps seemed to pull all the air right out of his lungs. He tore off his helmet and dropped it to the stone floor with a noisy clatter. It didn't help him to breathe easier. He then stumbled down the chapel's center aisle, and collapsed before he could reach one of the pews.

The commotion drew the attention of the praetor- a pretty-looking young woman with wavy brown hair parted down the middle, wearing a white robe hemmed with a pattern that resembled blue flames. She rushed to Simon's side as soon as she saw him. "Are you alright?"

Simon struggled to climb up, and seat himself on the bench, before he looked to the praetor. "I need… to send a message. To a praetor… in Solas."

The praetor's eyes widened in surprise for a moment, before she nodded. "O-Of course," she stammered. "What's the message? And who will receive it?"

It took several breaths before Simon could answer. "Send it… to Praetor Felix… in Solas's middle district. Tell him… there's… a lilim… hiding in Fort… Galuade."

"Of course," the praetor said again. "Just give me one moment." She then stood, and hurried out the main doors of the chantry, leaving Simon alone.

Still breathing hard, Simon looked around. He didn't visit chantries often due to his work; aside from the occasional visit to Felix, he mostly had to make do with sermons conducted by his divison's auspex. This chantry was the complete opposite of the one run by Felix. Everything about it exuded wealth and prestige. Gold was the color of the Chantry, but here it was everywhere- in the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, plating the dark wooden pews… even in the walls, where gold filled bas reliefs and carved letters spelling verses from the Twenty-Five Sermons. "It's such a waste," he said.

Cassandra appeared, seated on the bench next to Simon. "What is? The chantry?" she asked.

"The Chantry always talks about giving to those less fortunate than us. But look at all this gold. It seems like it would be more help in the hands of people who need it, instead-"

Simon was cut off when the doors of the chantry were thrown open. Cassandra disappeared, and he looked back. But it was not the praetor who entered the chantry. Rather, it was a squad of five Purifiers, all in armor, swords drawn. The praetor hung back by the door, peering in.

 _Shit,_ Simon thought as he struggled to his feet. Alba wasn't a large country, but he didn't think news of his arrest and execution would have spread so quickly. But what the knight in front said caught him off guard: "Did you think you could fool us, incubus? You can deceive us with disguises, but you cannot deceive the Barrier."

One of the knights in the rear then stepped forward. "Wait. I know him." He stepped forward, lifting up his helmet. Simon let out a surprised gasp. He recognized the portly face, the dark curly hair and bushy beard- it was Hogarth, a soldier in his command. Or at least, he _was_. "It's Ozwell."

"Ozwell?" the leading knight asked. "Simon Ozwell, the former captain?" He shook his head. "So I see you betrayed not only Alba, but all of humanity." The knight then readied his sword, holding it horizontally, parallel to his shoulders. "You should've stayed in your grave where you belong, traitor."

Then, the knight charged. He drew his sword up for a downward strike to cleave open Simon's skull. But even in his weakened state, Simon wasn't going to stand by and let himself be killed. He waited until the right moment, then reached up his hands, and grabbed the knight's wrist, stopping his swing. He then kneed the knight in the stomach with all the strength he could muster. The blow was stronger than he anticipated- the knight was knocked a good six feet into the air, before crashing down to the stone floor. His sword clattered against the floor- with a sharp breath, Simon ducked down and retrieved it, holding it ready.

The lead knight struggled to rise, a noticeable dent in the armor around his abdomen. " _Don't just stand around!_ " he shouted to the other Purifiers. " _Bring him down!_ "

The rest of the knights spread out through the center aisle. Simon began to back up toward the dais on the far side of the chantry- even if he'd been in top form, he wouldn't stand a chance if the knights managed to surround him. Then another knight charged him. He came at Simon with a swing from the left- Simon knocked the knight's sword downward with the flat side of his blade, before countering with a swing of his own from below. Sparks flew, and Simon's blow left a large, deep scratch in the knight's breastplate and helmet. But the knight didn't fall. He stumbled back, and touched the scratch, before readying himself for another attack. But that wasn't surprising. Purifier armor was made to protect against some of the strongest monsters in the world- allegedly, a wearer could walk directly into the path of a dragon's fire breath, and come out unscathed. The Purifier charged him again.

This time, Simon didn't use his sword. He just pulled back his free hand and punched the knight in the helm as hard as he could. That did the trick- the helmet's visor shattered into pieces, and the knight flew back, hit the ground hard, and slid several feet back, where he laid unmoving.

Two of the remaining knights stumbled back slightly. But not the last. "You bastard!" he shouted, and charged, swinging wildly. Simon blocked two of his swings, before managing to stop the third, their blades locked together. He pushed, but the knight remained firm. " _You_ were a captain?" the Purifier taunted. "I'm surprised you could even pass muster with your weak skills."

Simon gritted his teeth, and with a growl, shoved his opponent back. He swung, but the knight ducked out of his reach. He swung again, but again the knight evaded. But before Simon could follow the knight with a third strike, he choked. This amount of exertion, in his current state, was just too much to bear. The knight saw his vulnerability, and rushed toward him, reading a strong horizontal swing. Simon raised his sword to parry, but his grip was too weak, and the sword was knocked out of his hands " _Damn!_ " Simon could only say weakly. With a triumphant laugh, the knight drew his blade back, and stabbed it into Simon's chest.

The sword broke through his armor, and pain flared through his lungs. Simon tried to gasp, but couldn't. He couldn't make any sound emerge from his mouth. It was already hard to breathe, now, it was impossible. Even when the knight withdrew his sword, Simon's lungs refused to cooperate. He fell to his knees, clutching his wound. Without even a moment of hesitation, the Purifier drew back his sword, and stabbed Simon again- this time, his blow pierced through Simon's eye.

Simon finally cried out, and for a moment, his vision was filled with white. When his vision returned, he was greeted with… a surreal sight. In one eye, the gleaming silver blade of a sword dominated his view- in the other, he saw nothing. Not black or darkness, but nothing. Instinctively, he tried to reach up, to pull the sword out of his eye, but only his right arm obeyed. Odd, he thought, as he'd been stabbed through the left eye. He tried to pull out the sword, but he couldn't close his hand to grasp the blade. Then, the world turned sideways. The knight stepped back, and the others gathered around. They were saying something, but their voices were muffled, and he couldn't make out what they were saying. Simon squinted, for some reason, the knights were becoming harder and harder to make out. He blinked, but the darkness filling his vision refused to clear. Soon, the knights, the chantry, the sword, all of it was gone, and it made no difference whether his eye was open or closed.

Then…there was only silence.

* * *

Simon jolted awake.

From close by, he heard a small scream, and then a harsh voice saying, "Holy shit."

Simon was kneeling, so he stood up slowly, looking down at himself. He had a hole in his breastplate, where the Purifier had stabbed him, but when he touched his bare skin through the hole, there was no wound, or mark. He closed his right eye- the view from his left eye had perfect clarity, as though a steel blade hadn't been thrust into it. And it was then that he noticed the pressure around his chest was gone, and he could breathe freely.

"Welcome back," Simon heard another voice say. Only now did Simon take stock of his surroundings. He was in some kind of grand hall with a high, vaulted ceiling, lit by many torches lining the walls. The sickly-sweet scent in the air confirmed that he was in the monster realm- most likely back at Fort Galuade. Next to him stood the gazer- Zarga, if memory served. Several feet ahead of him, seated on a black wooden throne, was the lilim, looking down at him with a smug smile.

Simon reflexively reached to his belt, before stopping himself. Aside from the fact that he was unarmed, he remembered how futile his efforts had been last time. And this time around, he didn't have any firebombs. "…How did I get here?"

"Your hitchhiker brought you," the lilim replied, still smiling. "She was so desperate for our help."

Cassandra floated out of Simon. "I'm sorry. I… I had to get out of the barrier, and… I couldn't think of anywhere else to go."

Simon said nothing.

The lilim leaned back in her throne, clasping her hands. "So. How was your visit to Esgaroth?"

Simon continued to say nothing. There was nothing he _could_ say. The Purifiers, men he had called allies… had tried to kill him- no, they _had_ killed him, without a moment's hesitation. What the lilim had said was true. He couldn't go back to his old life. And it seemed, even death couldn't free him from the shame of being corrupted. But he was not about to spend his days as the plaything of monsters. So, he turned his back on the lilim, and began striding toward the door at the back of the hall.

" _Hold it._ " The gazer slipped in front of Simon, all eyes fixed on him, and he froze. "Lady Velvet isn't done with you yet. Now turn your ass around."

Simon gritted his teeth, but complied. Not that he had a choice in the matter.

The lilim was still smiling when Simon turned to face her. "You remember our wager, don't you?" she asked. "Because _I_ do. And as I recall, _you_ ran away. According to the traditional rules of dueling, that means you forfeited, making _me_ -" The lilim rested a hand on her chest. "…the winner by default." She stood. "So now, as agreed, you will pledge yourself to me, and my mission of extinguishing Alba's Sacred Flame."

Simon gritted his teeth. He hated to admit it, but he didn't have any contingency for what would happen if the lilim somehow managed to catch up with him. And now, he had no choice but to honor his agreement- even if he refused, the gazer would most likely just force his compliance.

So, he kneeled, placing his right fist over his heart. "Very well," he said in a low voice. "On one condition."

The lilim, who was positively beaming at the sight of Simon kneeling before her, tilted her head in confusion. "A condition?"

He looked up at the lilim. "If I help you extinguish the Flame… then you'll break the bond between me and Cassandra." He lowered his gaze. "Alba… was everything to me. And if I am to die, then I wish to die with my kingdom."

The smile finally disappeared from the lilim's face. "If that's what you wish, then you have my word that if- _if_ \- you can extinguish the Flame, I will break yours and Cassandra's bond. And now that you mention it…" She gave Simon a look- he knew that her gaze was not directed at him. "I'll need _you_ to swear your loyalty to me as well."

Cassandra appeared alongside Simon. "Simon, are you sure about this?" she asked.

"No," he replied honestly. "But we don't have a choice. Now… kneel." Cassandra couldn't exactly kneel, having no legs, so she scrunched herself up into a ball and brought herself low to the ground. Simon bowed his head. "By the honor of the founder, Saint Gabriel, we pledge our blades to your service for all of our days."

The lilim frowned. "Oh, no no no, that won't do at all." She stepped down from her throne and approached Simon.

The former captain looked up at the white-haired monster. "Is there a problem?"

She nodded, with a stern expression. "There is. You see, we monsters have our _own_ ritual for pledging our loyalty to another. And since _I'm_ your new liege, then you will pledge yourself to me using _our_ methods."

Simon let out a long sigh. "…alright. What do I need to do?"

"First, stand up." The lilim waved her hand up, a signal for him to stand.

Simon did, partially thankful that the monster didn't _force_ him to stand. He stood before the lilim, noticing that she was rather short. Granted, she was able to look him in the eye, but he had always been shorter than most men he knew, so-

At that moment, the lilim did something that Simon could never have predicted.

The lilim placed her hands on the sides of Simon's face, leaned in… and kissed him on the lips.

It wasn't a rough, forceful kiss that seemed to pull the air right out of one's lungs. But a soft, gentle touching of her lips against his. Simon's hands shot up, but, he was unsure of what to do- whether to push the woman away, or to pull her in.

But after only a moment, the lilim pulled away. She then looked into Simon's eyes, and said something that made his brain… stop. He understood each of the words the lilim said on their own, but when placed in that particular sequence, they somehow seemed to lose all meaning. And as hard as he tried, Simon could not make sense of her statement. "…I'm, sorry, but… can you repeat that?"

The gazer stepped up, and flashed a grin, showing off a plethora of sharp teeth. "C'mon, you of all people should know what happens next." She held up her hands; one forming a circle, the other with two fingers extended, and thrust her fingers into the circle. "You two have to fuck."


	5. The Vow

**4\. The Vow**

 

Simon awoke, on something soft for what felt like the first time in ages. He felt warm… but there was also a peculiar sensation that he couldn’t place. It wasn’t until he sat up that he realized what it was

He was naked. Naked, and sleeping in a strange woman’s bed.

After taking a moment to calm his racing heart, he took stock of his surroundings. He was in a small room, that, in contrast to the rest of the castle, showed signs of being well-lived in- books scattered across the floor, and the walls were covered in parchments, depicting maps, diagrams, and lines upon lines of notes. It was bedchamber of the lilim, Velvet, a much more humble room than he had expected of the refined, elegant, prideful monster he’d met days before. But strangely, despite being in her bedroom, in her _bed_ , the lilim was nowhere in sight.

But then, he felt the sheets covering him shift, and a small groan. Simon jolted, realizing that he wasn’t alone; lying next to him was a mound covered by a blanket, moving slightly. Simon had to take another breath to calm himself, before he reached out and poked the mound of blankets. “…Velvet?” he asked. It felt… strange to call these creatures by name. But, he was no longer a Purifier. And though he hated to say it aloud, they were no longer his enemies, but his masters. So, it was a habit he would have to break. He poked the mound again. “Velvet?”

The mound groaned again. “Dammit…” it replied, in a harsh voice that certainly did not belong to the lilim. “If you’re gonna be a bad lay, then at least let me sleep in peace.” The gazer rolled over, turning her back to him and mumbling “ _Stupid, gutless virgin…_ ”

Simon didn’t reply, hurtful as Zarga’s words were. Instead, he climbed out of the bed and walked to the door. He shivered upon leaving the enveloping warmth of the bed- he was loath to wander the castle naked, but Velvet had disappeared his armor right off his body the night before, and he doubted Zarga would give up any sheets to allow him some semblance of modesty.

Cassandra floated out of his body as he wandered the castle. Her face, and the way she wrung her hands made it clear she _wanted_ to say something, but she kept quiet. Simon could hardly call himself an expert at reading moods, but even he could see it. “Is there something bothering you, Cassandra?”

“No,” she replied, perhaps a bit more forcefully than intended.

It was clearly a lie, but Simon chose not to press further. “If you say so…”

Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find the lilim. She was in the great hall, seated on her dark wooden throne, leafing through a bundle of parchments. She looked up as he approached. “Simon?” she asked, clearly surprised by his attire… or lack thereof. “Why are you- oh, that’s right.” She snapped her fingers- and in an instant, his armor (sans helmet) was back on his body.

He seated himself, saying nothing in reply. Velvet, too, fell silent. For a long time, the two sat, Velvet silent, Simon hoping Velvet would say something. But in the end, he was finally the one to address the obvious source of their discomfort:

“So…” he began. “Was last night… normal?”

Velvet tensed, her face sinking behind her papers and out of sight, but said nothing.

Simon clasped his hands with a sigh. “It’s funny… the Chantry always spoke out against giving into lust. But… if that’s what… what… _sex_ is like, then… it makes me wonder why they bothered.”

Velvet continued to say nothing.

Simon looked to the lilim, still hiding her face. “Did… we do something wrong? Or, is it just like Felix and the other praetors said?” In their sermons, praetors brought up sex often, and very little of what they had to say about it was positive. They always said that it was incredibly painful for women, that were it not the only way children could be born, then goodly peoples would do away with it altogether. That lust- desiring another for their own gratification, was the gravest of sins, because it brought oneself closer to the Great Enemy. That sex, despite being a duty to the Kingdom and humanity, was like a gravedigger or night soil man- required for the proper functioning of society, but to be avoided unless absolutely necessary. Even just thinking about the word made Simon feel shameful.

Velvet suddenly threw down the sheafs of parchment she’d been reading, her eyes flashing in anger. “ _I don’t want to talk about last night._ ” Simon actually flinched away from the lilim. Even during their fight, that smug smile never left her face. So seeing her anger for the first time was a truly terrible sight to behold.

Gods only knew how long he sat in silence. Then, the doors at the end of the hall behind Simon were thrown open, and a harsh voice called out, “Good morning, everyone!”

The gazer confidently strode into the hall, with the biggest smile on her face imaginable. “Oh good, everyone’s here!” she said cheerfully. “So, Lady Velvet, how’d all those ‘erotic lessons’ work out for you? Because, I’ve gotta admit, I’ve seen a lot of couples in my time, and you two were the absolute _worst_ I’ve ever seen! It was actually kinda funny how terrible you were at first, flopping around like a pair of fish, but then it just got sad. I mean, if _I_ hadn’t been here, then that whole thing would’ve been _unsalvageable._ ”

As the gazer spoke, the lilim’s face grew steadily redder and redder. Then, she shot up, knocking over her throne with a loud _bang_. She strode across the room toward the gazer, and without a moment’s hesitation, slapped Zarga across the face, hard. Hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor. Velvet glared down at the gazer, her teeth gritted, before turning on her heel. A great smoky portal opened, and Velvet strode into it without a word, disappearing from the hall.

“Ah,” the gazer said, staggering to her feet. “What was that for? I was just being honest with her like always.”

Cassandra emerged from Simon, giving the gazer a hard glare. “Are you really that oblivious?” she asked. “ _And you’re supposed to be her servant._ ” She then turned, and began floating away… only to suddenly stop when she got about ten feet away from Simon. She looked back. “Well come on, Simon. We need to find her.”

“Wait, me? Why?” Simon asked.

Cassandra gave him a glare, and opened her mouth… before shutting it. “I suppose I can’t really get upset at _you_ for not understanding,” she mumbled. Even so, she turned away. “Let’s go. Our bond won’t let me go too far away from you.”

Simon obeyed, following Cassandra as she left the great hall and wound through the castle corridors. “Why are we doing this?” he asked.

“You didn’t see it?” Cassandra asked in turn. “Velvet was crying.”

He hadn’t seen. But all things considered, he could understand why she would have. “Yeah, what that gazer said was completely uncalled for.”

Cassandra shook her head. “It’s not just that. A woman’s first time is… they have to put a lot of trust in their partner. And if things don’t go well, it can destroy the every experience after that. We need to fix that.”

“Why? The deed is done. We had an agreement.”

Cassandra stopped. “Maybe. But Velvet doesn’t exactly have much reason to uphold her end of the agreement right now.” She looked back. “But we can fix this. Let me talk to her, and do everything I say.”

Cassandra began floating ahead. But Simon didn’t follow Cassandra right away. Her words stuck with him for some strange reason. “Cassandra…?” he began. “Have you… a-are you…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. “… _experienced?_ ”

The ghost caught on quickly. “Yes, I’ve had sex a few times. It was a lifetime ago, before I joined the Inquisition. But that’s not important right now.” She kept moving.

Simon followed in silence. He would admit, he came from the lower end of society, so some aspects of etiquette were beyond him. But he knew enough about social mores to know a woman’s virginity was important for marriage; a _noblewoman’s_ virginity was even _more_ important. Why would she take that risk, he wondered. Perhaps that was the _true_ reason Cassandra joined the Inquisition. Simon chose not to press the issue. With the possibility of spending eternity working for monsters, the last thing he wanted was to upset the one person who could get him out of that situation.

They eventually reached the door to Velvet’s bedroom. “Wait here,” Cassandra instructed, before phasing through the door, and Simon heard her muffled voice ask on the other side, “Velvet, can we talk for a minute?” For a few minutes, the muffled conversation continued- tempting though it was, Simon resisted the urge to eavesdrop. Soon, Cassandra floated partway through the door. “Alright. You can come in now.”

Simon opened the door. The room’s condition had changed little since he’d left, though it seemed a little messier than before. The main addition, however, was a lilim in a black dress, lying on the bed on her stomach, her face buried in her arms. Velvet lifted her head upon hearing the door creak open. Cassandra was right- she had been crying, judging from the redness of her eyes and the faint black streaks running down her cheeks. “Simon…” she said, wiping her face. “I wish you didn’t have to see me like this.”

“ _Okay…_ ” he muttered. “ _Now what?_ ”

 _First, apologize_ , Cassandra replied.

Simon jolted. He heard Cassandra speak, he was certain of it, but he hadn’t heard it with his ears- rather, it seems to echo within his head itself. But he didn’t question it. He said, slowly, “I… I’m sorry. About last night. If I’d been more experienced with women-”

“No. I should be the one apologizing,” Velvet replied, sitting up. “My mother spared no expense in bringing my sisters and I the finest teachers of erotic arts in all of monsterkind. I was supposed to take the lead. But when the moment came… I just… forgot everything.”

“It’s alright,” Simon replied. Cassandra whispered in his head, telling him what to say. Her helping him was doubtlessly cheating in some sense, but he had absolutely no idea how to resolve the situation, so he would have to defer to her judgment. Until something she said made him freeze, and his face burn. “Are you sure?” he asked.

 _I told you we were fixing this,_ she replied. And that _is part of fixing it._

Simon swallowed. Then, slowly, forced out the words: “Can… can we… try again?”

Velvet blinked, her sniffling stopping altogether. “Try again?”

Simon nodded. “Y-Yes.”

Velvet crossed her arms, eyes narrowing slightly. “You _do_ know what the word ‘first’ means, don’t you?”

“We can just pretend _this_ time was our first. And that the one before it never happened.” Cassandra didn’t tell Simon to say this. This was purely his own initiative. Something that Cassandra noted: _That was some good improv._

For a few moments longer, Velvet looked at Simon with her eyes narrowed. “You’re serious about this?”

Simon gave another improvised reply: “Of course. I want to find out why the praetors always talk badly about sex.”

That brought a smile to the lilim’s face. Not a smug smile, but one of seemingly genuine happiness. “Stoked your curiosity, have I?” she asked, standing up. “Well then, why don’t you come over here and indulge yourself with me?” Her voice was low and husky, making Simon shiver. She held out her arms inviting. He didn’t wait for Cassandra to tell him- he walked across the room and into Velvet’s embrace.

She wrapped her arms around him without hesitating. For a long while, he just looked into her face, trying to keep his breaths level. She had a wonderful… _scent_ : sweet, and intoxicating. Before all of this had happened, he remembered Cassandra had smelled nice, too. Did women just naturally smell good? She smiled, and asked, “Ready?” before leaning in to kiss him.

It… wasn’t a rough kiss, but a gentle touch of their lips. Just like their first. Her arms wrapped even more tightly around him, and she pushed herself against him. Simon could only stand. He was completely out of his element. He hugged the lilim back, but that was all he could think to do.

Simon then felt Velvet’s hands sliding over his armor, searching for the best way to remove it. He broke away for a moment. “Let me,” he said. Then, he slowly began removing his armor, piece by piece. It was a tricky process- because of the nature of monsters, Purifier armor was designed to be almost impossible to remove from the outside. Each piece was held in place by a spring-loaded mechanism, and only a Purifier or Inquisition armorsmith would know where to find the release switches.

As soon as his armor was gone, she grabbed his underclothes and threw him onto the bed. She crawled on top of him, pinning him down with another, rougher kiss. Her tongue caressed his, and he felt as if the air was being pulled from his lungs. He tried to match her movements, but it was no good. His whole mouth tingled, and he felt like he was going to pass out. Was it… because she was a monster? Or, did kissing always feel this good?

Velvet pulled back, straddling him, finally giving him a moment to catch his breath. “Your heart is beating so fast,” she said.

“Sorry,” he replied weakly, short of breath. “I shouldn’t be so nervous.”

“It’s okay.” She grabbed his wrist, and placed his hand right on her breast. “I’m nervous, too.” Simon could feel Velvet’s heart hammering in her chest. But more than that… he was touching a woman’s chest. He was… surprised. It wasn’t as soft as he expected. Then, he felt her slide her hand over his own, and made him give her breast a firm squeeze. She shuddered slightly under his touch, before giving him a lusty smile. “ _Do you want to touch me more?_ ”

Words completely failed Simon. So, he nodded. He knew at this moment that he was betraying everything he had ever stood for as a Purifier. But he was completely swept up in Velvet’s pace. He had gotten his first taste of a woman’s body. He wanted more. And the lilim knew how to take advantage of that.

For a moment, she pulled his hand away from her chest. He tried to reach for her, when she grabbed his wrist to stop him. “Just a moment,” she said firmly, before reaching up, and slipping off the top half of her dress. And for the second time in the span of less than a minute, Simon was left speechless.

Velvet’s breasts weren’t… the largest he’d ever seen by any means. But, they were the first he’d seen uncovered . With a smile, the lilim grabbed Simon’s wrists, and put both his hands over her breasts. She moved his hands over her chest, arching her back, moaning and gasping, rolling and grinding her hips against him. Part of him was sure that she was just putting on an act to excite him, but it was certainly working; from how hot his face felt, he must be the brightest shade of red imaginable, and he felt a new sensation he’d never felt before. A swelling from between his legs.

Velvet quickly noticed. “ _Oh_ , my. It seems all those lessons didn’t go to waste after all.” She crept down his body to his waist, slowly tugging his trousers down. His erection sprang free from the fabric, standing tall and proud, twitching with each beat of his heart. Then…

_Then…_

Velvet simply sat, on her knees, staring at Simon’s member in shock. She stammered. “Uh- _umm…_ ”

“What is it?” Simon asked. “Did I do something?”

“N-No,” she stammered, shaking her head. “It’s just… looking at the real things, it’s kinda… _scary_ …”

Simon was a bit surprised. On occasions when he’d come upon monsters unawares, they discussed many things. Mostly men. And many expressed desires to find men who were “larger” where certain parts of their anatomy were concerned. Simon didn’t exactly think his size was particularly impressive, but even so, Velvet did seem genuinely worried. Then, Cassandra whispered something to Simon. “I… have an idea,” he said.

He explained the idea. Velvet seemed surprised, but complied, and they shifted their positions. As Simon stood next to the bed, removing his underclothes, Velvet positioned herself, on her hands and knees, her rear pointed toward him. “Simon, are… you sure about this?” she asked.

“It’s fine,” he said, repeating what Cassandra had told him. “If you can’t see it, it won’t be a problem.”

“Okay… I’m trusting you with this,” Velvet replied, and turned away. Like her chest, Velvet’s butt wasn’t particularly big. But even so, he couldn’t resist the urge to lay his hands on it, eliciting a small squeal from the lilim. Again, it was firmer than he was expecting. Then, an urge overcame him, and he began to spread-

 _Hold on, Simon,_ Cassandra said. _You can’t just put it in. We need some foreplay first_.

“Alright,” he whispered back. “How do I do that?”

 _First, spread her open a little more_ . Simon did just that, making Velvet whimper. He… he wasn’t sure exactly what he was seeing. The best he could describe it was… pink folds, standing out prominently against the lilim’s moon-white skin. _Now, do you see that bump at the very bottom?_

“Uh…” he looked, but despite his confusion, he thought he found it- it looked like a pearl, resting in an oyster. “Is that it?”

 _That’s it,_ Cassandra replied. _Now, touch it_.

Simon looked at the small bump, uncertain. But, Cassandra hadn’t started him wrong yet. So, he reached in between her thighs, and touched the bump with his finger.

“ _Hnnnnghaaaa!_ ” Velvet screamed, and fell forward, her arms suddenly giving out. Simon backed away. The lilim looked back, eyes wide, face pink, a hand clamped firmly over her mouth.

 _Gently. It’s sensitive_ , Cassandra admonished.

“I’m sorry!” Simon said quickly. “I… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She shook her head wordlessly. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was too embarrassed to speak, or if she had lost the ability altogether. But, after a moment, she pushed herself up into her original position. Even with her face turned away, Simon could see her blush- it spread all the way up her long pointed ears.

 _Alright. Try it again. And remember what I said._ Cassandra said.

With a nod, Simon reached out, and touched that small nub again. He tried to be more gentle, like Cassandra said, giving only the faintest of brushes. Even with his light touches, Velvet’s reaction was immediate. She squirmed, her thighs clamping down on his hand. “Nnnhhh… ohhhh… _ohhhhh…_ ”

Simon felt something- a warm, slick feeling on his fingertips. Sure enough, there was something clear flowing down the lilim’s thighs. Then all at once, a most wonderful smell came to his nose. Simon inhaled deeply- he didn’t know _what_ it was, but was certain he knew the source. And sure enough, when he knelt down closer to Velvet, the scent grew stronger. On some instinctive level, he must have known, but even so, he drew back his hand, sniffed the nectar on his hand, and tasted it.

It was like an explosion of sweetness in his mouth. It was the sweetest, most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

Cassandra said something. But Simon wasn’t listening. Without even a moment of hesitation, he spread Velvet’s asscheeks wide, and buried his face between them, plunging her tongue into her folds.

“ _S-Simon, wait! Tha- haaaah!_ ” Velvet’s protests gave way cries of ecstasy as Simon licked. It was pure heaven for both his tongue and his ears; the sweet nectar that filled his mouth made all the meals he’d ever eaten seem completely tasteless in comparison, while her cries could have put even the most skilled musician to shame. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. He would be perfectly content to simply spend the rest of his life drinking that nectar from the source.

But through his lustful haze, Simon could hear Velvet calling him. “Simon… _Simon! Just… a little… more! I’m… almost… hhnnnaaahhh!_ ” There was a small surge of nectar… before Velvet collapsed. Simon blinked in confusion, and looked down at the sweating, panting girl, as if snapped out of a trance. She was sprawled in her bed, arms and legs twisted awkwardly, as if they’d just given up supporting her. She was twitching slightly, a glaze in her eye. What… what had happened? Had… had he done that to her?

But before he could wonder any more, Velvet came to. She fixed her gaze on him, letting out a sound that he wasn’t sure was a playful purr or a hungry growl. Then, she turned and launched herself at him, sending them both to the floor. Her arms and legs wrapped around him tightly, and her tongue quickly forced its way into his mouth, dancing around his. He didn’t fight. He didn’t try to match her. He simply clung to her, and let her have her way, basking in the feeling of her warmth, of her soft skin, of her chest pressing against his.

She finally broke away, stealing his breath. But, she was gasping just as much as he was. “Okay. I think… I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She sat up, looking down at him. She was beautiful. How strange, Simon thought to himself, that he was noticing this only _now_ of all times. “I’m you new master. So, I _have_ to be on top.”

“Alright.” Simon was far gone now. Velvet could have told him to jump off a bridge, and he would have obeyed.

She lifted herself up slightly, and gripped Simon’s member with her hand. It throbbed painfully beneath her touch, and he felt her position it beneath something wet… and very, very hot. Then, she pushed her hips down.

“ _Mmmm!_ ” Velvet bit her lip, and suddenly stiffened as he slipped inside of her. It was hot. Hot, but not unbearable. And it was tight. Every part of his member felt as though it were being squeezed tightly. All at once, he could feel something… _burning._  But not on the outside of his member. Rather, it seemed to come from within.

The world seemed to be frozen as Velvet sat atop Simon, his… _cock_ nestled inside her, until at long last, she let out a long, shuddering breath. It didn’t sound pained- quite the contrary. It was the kind of sound someone made when scratching a hard-to-reach, long overdue itch. She looked down at him with a dreamy smile. “Give me your hands.” He obeyed, and she grabbed his hands, lacing her fingers between his own. Then, she slowly began to move her hips.

Velvet moved her hips in a small circle. Every time she went to the left or right, she pulled so far away that Simon thought she would pull right off his member, only to slide back on. With every push, he could feel the burning grow stronger, and a strange tension build.

“Come on,” Velvet said. “Move with me.”

“I… I um…” he stammered.

“Don’t worry. It’s just like dancing.”

“I’ve… never danced with anyone.”

Velvet stopped. Letting go of his hand, she leaned down, touching his face. “Oh, you poor thing,” she said. It wasn’t in jest. The pity in her voice was genuine. “I’ll have to teach you one of these days. But for now… this will have to do. Just follow my lead.”

She resumed. He tried to match her pace, moving his hips in time with hers, but the slowness was pure torture. He wanted nothing more than to pull his hands free, grab her hips, and thrust into her. But he had to obey. So he gritted his teeth, and tried his best to bear it.

Then, Velvet stopped again. “I’m impressed, Simon. I didn’t think you’d hold out for so long. So I want to give you a reward.” She let go of his hands, moving them down to her waist. And then, she said the most wonderful words he’d ever heard. Even more wonderful than the news that he’d been accepted into the Purifiers:

“I want you to move as hard and as fast as you want. Don’t hold anything back.”

Simon gripped Velvet’s waist, and began thrusting with reckless abandon.

The lilim cried out. He breathed heavily. There was no rhythm to his movements, no pattern; just the wild thrusting of an animal in heat, a beast that wanted nothing more than to mate. To _fuck_. But there was still some decent part of him. Some corner of his mind that hadn’t completely melted from his lustful desires, worried that he was hurting velvet as he satisfied himself. “I… I’m sorry,” Simon breathed.

“Don’t… worry about me,” Velvet replies breathily. “Just… make yourself feel good.”

The burning grew stronger and stronger with each thrust, the pressure tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. He felt like his member would explode. “ _Vel… vet… something’s happening._ ”

She put her hands on his face. “ _It’s okay. Let it all out. Don’t fight it._ ”

Then… Simon felt as though a valve in his member was released and the whole world became… white.

All the tension in his body was released, like a rope that was pulled too tight finally snapping. The burning inside his member was pushed out, as if he were letting out a long awaited pee, but compressed into a single instant, and amplified by a thousand times. His back arched, he cried out in spite of himself, and he thrust into the lilim one final time. Then, with all the tension gone, he felt… relaxed. Nothing in the world had ever made him feel so at ease. He sank back to the floor, moving his arms to loosely embrace Velvet. “So, this is why the praetors spoke out against it,” Simon heard himself say. His words were distant, as though someone else far away had said them, and the once well-lit room seemed… dark.

The last thing he remembered was Velvet, putting her hand on his face, and kissing his cheek.

* * *

When Simon awoke, he was sandwiched between something hard, and something soft.

He looked around. He was still lying on the floor of Velvet’s room. And lying on top of him, head resting against his chest, was the lilim herself, fast asleep.

It was… surprising. For as long as he could remember, he had been taught to hate and fear monsters. He’d killed more monsters than he could even count in the line of his duties. But here he was, lying with not just any monster, but the daughter of the Overlord herself. But as he looked down at Velvet, he couldn’t bring himself to call her a monster- as she slept, she looked just like any other normal girl.

Before long, she began to stir. Blearily, she crawled up his body, and kissed him on the lips. “Good morning,” she whispered.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

She smiled It was a smile of true, genuine contentment, rather than smug superiority. “Much.” Then her smile vanished, and she quickly rose to her feet. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot all about Zarga! I hope we haven’t been keeping her waiting long.”

Velvet cleaned herself up, and pulled her dress back in place to preserve her modesty. Simon hastily locked his armor in place. But as it would turn out, they didn’t need to go through the trouble.

As soon as Velvet opened her bedroom door, they spotted Zarga sitting with her back against the wall across the corridor, sleeping. She snorted, and came to upon hearing the door creak open. “Oh, hey, you’re done.” The gazer yawned. “I was pretty worried when you ran off, Lady Velvet, but it looks like you were in good hands.” She stood up, her gaze turned to Simon. “Gotta say, you’ve got some pretty good instincts for a virgin. Where was all that the first time around?”

Velvet cleared her throat. “Anyway, now that Simon has pledged himself to my service, we need to discuss our next move.”

Zarga pouted. “Aw, business talk? I don’t even get to sample him first?”

Velvet simply glared at the gazer. Simon was somewhat taken aback. The girl who had whispered sweet words to him mere minutes ago had seemingly vanished at some point, replaced by the elegant, regal lilim he’d first met.

“Okay okay, fine,” the gazer snapped. “Business comes first.”

Velvet opened her bedroom door. “Come inside. And, sorry about the mess.”

They entered the small bedroom. There were a few signs of Simon and Velvet’s recent… activity: there was a distinct bare spot on the floor where they had been lying, a few strange stains on the nearby parchments… but mostly, it was the smell.

Velvet snapped her fingers, and three chairs appeared in puffs of black smoke. The three took their seats, facing one another. “Now,” the lilim began, “as you’re all doubtlessly aware, Alba is protected by a barrier which not only _repels_ monster energy, but destroys it on contact.”

“We all know that!” Zarga said, exasperated.

Velvet shot the gazer a glare before continuing. “I’ve always believed that if we could collect a sample of the Flame, then we could study it, find out how it was made, and then find a way to unmake it. Or at least, find some way to shield ourselves from the Barrier.”

“You’d never be able to get a sample,” Simon said bluntly. “A monster would never reach Solas.”

“True. But Zarga and I didn't need to reach the capital to find _this_.” Velvet made a small portal, and pulled something from it: a canister made of some dark metal. It wasn’t especially big- it was about as long as his hand, it’s base as wide as his palm. She stood, setting the canister on the floor between the three, and lifted its cover.

A brilliant blue light began to shine in the room. On some instinctive level, Simon knew what it was, but it wasn’t until the cover was lifted, and he saw the blue flames, the familiar faint white glow of the barrier that he knew for sure.

It was an Ember from the Sacred Flame.

The Flame was small, smaller than even the flame of a candle- an ember in every sense of the word. He wondered why such a small flame would be made… until he remembered his history lessons.

Alba has always tried to use the Sacred Flame not only as a shield, but a weapon against the monsters. One of the earliest was attempts to integrate the Flame into a suit of armor. The barrier specifically enclosed the head, preventing the wearers from breathing in air tainted by monster energy. Unfortunately, the attempt failed- monster energy could seem into the skin directly through armor and clothing, bypassing the barrier. So, the idea was abandoned, and new methods to block monster energy were investigated. This would lead to the specialized hermetic seals present in modern Purifier armor.

This tiny flame, with a barrier perfectly sized to enclose a man’s head, must have come from one of these early armor suits.

Simon stood, and stuck his hand into the barrier. At once, it felt… withered, as though all the moisture had been sucked out of it. He withdrew, and his hand soon returned to normal. It was genuine. “How did you find this?” he asked.

Velvet covered the Ember once more, and both the blue light and the barrier disappeared. “Pieces of the Sacred Flame are scattered all over this realm. But this is the only one you can take with you.”

Cassandra emerged. “ _Take?_ Where would we take it?”

“The world is full of masters of the arcane arts,” Velvet replied. “Both humans and monsters alike who know the world’s great mysteries. And we’re going to find the one who can help us unravel how Saint Gabriel first kindled the Sacred Flame.”

Velvet waved her hand, a great cloud of black smoke billowing forth. The smoke flowed and coalesced, forming… some manner of shape. Simon tilted his head, confused, and then he saw it. The smoke had been shaped into a map of all the known world: Alba, the Order’s domains, the island of Zipangu, even the southern edges of the Mist Continent. He had only ever seen these maps as flat diagrams, so was unaware of just how varied the topography was. Simon then noticed small red lights glowing on various spots on the map.

“What are those lights?” Simon asked.

“I had some allies in the Royal Monster Realm gather information about scholars who might be able to help us. All of these lights are their most recently known locations,” the lilim replied.

Zarga leaned over the map. “Huh. That’s not a whole lot,” she said.

“There are others, but there’s one lead in particular I wanted to follow up on. These experts just happen to be on the route between here and that lead. But first…” Velvet looked to Simon. “What do you know of the Mist Continent, Simon?”

“I don’t know much,” he admitted. He had studied the Mist Continent to an extent, as some monster species threatening Alba originated from there; however, because of its great distance from the kingdom, his instructors hadn’t given it much focus.

“And what do you know of a species called the ‘hakutaku?’” the lilim asked.

Simon thought for a few moments. He knew he had heard the name before, but couldn’t associate any traits with it. He finally shook his head and answered, “Just the name.”

“I see. In that case, let me explain. The hakutaku are a monster species native to the Mist Continent. They’re a race of scholars and intellectuals, considered to be the most intelligent species in the world.” As Velvet spoke, smoke from the map began to shape itself into a new form: a woman, with curved horns, legs covered in shaggy fur and ending in cloven hooves, and a very peculiar garb which must have been unique to the Mist Continent. Simon was surprised- judging from the features, he hadn’t expected a race of scholars to be a Minotaur subspecies.

“But,” Velvet continued, “I learned that there is one hakutaku who is revered even among her own kind for her knowledge. Her name is Bai Tze, and of all the experts who were brought to my attention, it’s most likely that _she_ will be able to help us. If nothing else, she may be able to devise a means to shield us from the Barrier’s effects.”

Simon nodded. “Alright. But, why wait until now to find these experts?”

Velvet fell oddly quiet for several moments before answering. “…I must remain within a certain vicinity of Alba at all times. Unless directly ordered by Mother, I am forbidden from leaving for any reason.”

“Why?” Simon asked.

Zarga answered in Velvet’s place: “Basically, Lady Velvet made a whole bunch of mistakes trying to assimilate a kingdom into the monster realm a while ago. So as punishment, she has to conquer Alba on her own. The Overlord’s agents are watching her all the time- if they see her leave the Lostlands, they’ll assume she abandoned her assignment and drag her back to the Royal Monster Realm to be disciplined.”

Velvet looked away, shame clear on her face. “…Indeed. Normally, lilims can command the loyalty of almost any monster. But because of my reputation, only Zarga has remained by my side. These experts will not respond to my summons, so I have to send an envoy to meet them. I couldn’t in good conscience send Zarga out on her own, but I can’t leave my position unattended.” She looked back to Simon. “Fortunately, that’s when _you_ entered the picture, Simon. And, as a former citizens, you and Cassandra can provide insight into Alba’s internal affairs.”

Simon gritted his teeth slightly, remembering exactly _what_ it was he agreed to do. But he had to put up with it. He made a vow, after all.

“Very well,” he said. “How do we reach the Mist Continent from here?”


	6. First Steps

**5: First Steps**

 

Simon was paralyzed. His arms and legs weren’t bound, but even so, he couldn’t move an inch. And the reason was simple enough to explain.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” Zarga asked as she straddled him, swaying her hips with his member deep inside her. “Is it frustrating? Do you want to cry?” The gazer’s many eyes were fixed on him, and so long as their gaze remained fixed on him, her paralyzing spell would hold, giving her free reign to have her way with him. Every night on the road thus far, she had pinned him down and violated him. At first, Simon had been terrified, but now he was just getting frustrated. There were better things he could have been doing in that time.

Simon gritted his teeth. “Just hurry up already,” he growled. “We don’t have time to waste.”

Zarga stopped. “What’s the rush?” she asked with a smug smile. “You have to take your time to really enjoy a fine meal. To savor all the subtle flavors.” She leaned down, bringing her face close to his. “And I plan to enjoy every. Last. _Bite._ ” She thrust her hips down hard with each word, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine.

She leaned back, resting her hands on his stomach as she rolled her hips. “I hope you’re taking notes in there, Cassie,” she said smugly. “And as for you Simon, if you could move right now, what would you do?”

He just glared up at the gazer, refusing to play along with her game.

She moved faster. He gritted his teeth, trying to distract himself from the burning in his member. “Come on, tell me! I promise I won’t laugh. Would you suck on my tits? Spank me for being a bad girl?”

He continued to say nothing.

Zarga blinked. “Oh, I get it now. You wanna kiss me, don’t you?” Her movements slowed as she drew her face close to his own. “Is that it? Do you wanna kiss me?” She drew even closer, her eye lidded, voice low and gentle. “ _Do you?_ ”

“I…” Simon finally faltered under that warm, almost _loving_ gaze.

Zarga stopped again, holding his face in her hands. “I’ll do it. Say that you want me to kiss you the way Lady Velvet kissed you, and I’ll do it.”

Simon felt his chest tighten. Would… would Zarga really do that? He had to admit, the worst part of Zarga’s… _advances_ wasn’t the sex itself, but the fact that she refused to let him lay so much as a hand on her. He _wanted_ to touch her. To hold her and to be held by her, like with Velvet. She knew what he wanted, so she deliberately denied him what he wanted most. Until now. Now… he could have the intimacy, the tenderness, the soft, gentle touch he so desperately craved. His resolve crumbled, and he murmured his answer.

“What was that?” Zarga asked, leaning in even closer.

He repeated his words, his shame keeping him from speaking above a whisper: “…please… kiss me.”

He felt the bond holding his head in place slacken. Instantly, he tried to rise up, to touch his lips against hers…

But he was stopped, when Zarga laid her finger against his lips. “Sorry,” she said with a cruel smile. “But only lovers kiss. And you’re not my lover. You’re Lady Velvet’s possession.”

Simon’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He strained, trying to rise up, to reach out and grab the gazer, but his body refused to obey, and against his will, laid back down against the stone ground.

Zarga shuddered, before throwing her head back and laughing. “Pfft- _hahahahaha! Oh-_ Oh you should’ve seen your face!” She looked down at him, wiping a tear from her eye. “You really are just too much fun to tease, Simon.”

Simon didn’t respond. He shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and waited for everything to end.

He felt the gazer lean down, resting her chest against his. “Your cock got so hot when you thought we were gonna kiss. You know that? Guess you really like the lovey-dovey stuff, huh?”

He said nothing.

She touched his face as she slowly moved her hips. “Aw, did I hurt your feelings? Are you gonna cry?”

Simon continued to say nothing. But he would admit to himself that he wanted to. After having his heart yanked around like that. But he held it in. He refused to give the gazer the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

He felt her breath against his face as she let out a disappointed sigh. “Oh, fine. Let’s wrap this up. It’s no fun when you don’t react.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and began to mercilessly pound her hips against his. He gasped, in spite of himself. Even if he couldn’t hold her the way he wanted, he couldn’t deny the gazer’s skill.

She whispered into his ear, her breath hot on his neck, “C’mon, let it all out. Don’t hold back.” He obliged, and all the pressure was released. It wasn’t the explosion it had been with Velvet, or even with his first time with the gazer, but a pleasurable numbness that coursed through his groin.

Zarga let out a long, satisfied sigh, slowly rolling her hips before she lifted herself up, letting Simon’s seed flow from her folds. She scowled. “What? That’s _it?_ That’s even less than last time!”

After taking a breath, Simon answered, “What do you expect? You’ve been wringing me dry every day now…”

The gazer huffed. “Whatever. You need to work on your stamina.” She climbed off of the former knight and snapped her fingers; at once, all the bonds holding Simon came undone. “You have some good tricks, but they won’t help if you can’t last long enough to use ‘em.”

It had been three days since Simon and Zarga had set out for the long journey to the Mist Continent. Their first stop: the Dead Kingdom of Ikana, just beyond the border of the Lostlands. Simon had actually looked forward to brushing up on his survival skills, but Zarga refused, preferring to take shelter in old houses or caves whenever they needed to rest (in hindsight, Simon realized it was most likely so the two of them would have privacy for their… nightly activities”).

After getting dressed (or rather, after _Simon_ got dressed- Zarga simply smeared some black oily liquid over her unmentionables and left it at that), the two left the small cave they’d camped in, and began walking down the worn dirt path leading east. The road led them over a rolling field of purple grass, and into a dark forest filled with strange black trees, bursting with purple and pink leaves. Simon was quiet, thinking about something the gazer had said earlier. He was no longer human- the effects the Barrier had on him proved as much. But at the same time, it was clear he wasn’t a normal incubus, either. Apparently, they were inexhaustible, particularly when it came to… carnal matters. It must have been his bond with Cassandra. It must have altered him in some way- monsterizing him, but setting him apart from normal incubi at the same time. But he didn’t concern himself with the how or why- only whether or not the bond could be undone, and he could die once, and for all.

“ _Hey!_ ” Zarga suddenly shoved Simon, almost knocking him off his feet.

He glared at the gazer. “What was that for?”

“You really should listen when other people are talking,” she snapped back. “So anyway I was watching you nail Lady Velvet, you know. Had to make sure there was no funny business, like you trying to pull a knife out of your boot on her.” She looked over to him, grinning. “So, is that how they do it in Alba? Or do you just have a preference for cozy, lovey-dovey sex?”

Simon huffed without replying. He thought the gazer had something serious to say, but he supposed he should have known better. Zarga continued on despite his lack of response: “Oh wait, you were a virgin ‘til recently, so you wouldn’t really have any preferences yet. But, you’ve gotta have a type at the very least, right?”

Simon heard something from the surrounding woods. “What…?”

“Oh come on, a _type!_ ” Zarga exploded. “The kind of girl you like! But if I had to guess from looking at you, you’d prefer the mature, motherly type with big tits who’d-”

Simon held out his arm, stopping Zarga. “Quiet.”

The gazer grabbed his arm, pushing it aside. “C’mon, you don’t have to be rude about it. If you don’t wanna-”

Simon’s gaze snapped to the gazer. “ _Listen_.” Zarga fell silent. Now, Simon could clearly hear the snapping of branches, the crunch of leaves, and voices speaking. Something was moving through the surrounding trees. A large group, from the sound of it. “There’s something out here with us. We need to-”

But before Simon could say anything else, a group emerged from the trees onto the road ahead. Simon knew their kind well. Small, childlike bodies covered by simple wraps, pointed ears, small curved horns- goblins, without a doubt. Roughly a dozen in all. Trailing behind them was a similar creature; similar, but distinctly set apart by her large chest that swayed with every motion; a hobgoblin.

Zarga looked at the group, and scoffed. “What, that’s it? You’re getting antsy over a bunch of _goblins?_ They aren’t _that_ tough.”

Simon gripped the scabbard on his belt tightly. It was an old sword, rusting along the edge, its leather grip cracked, and much shorter than the Purifiers’ standard sword. But in spite of its poor condition, of all the old swords he managed to find in Velvet’s castle, it was in the best condition. “ _One_ goblin, maybe. But a whole pack is another story.”

It didn’t take long for the goblins to notice the two. One goblin locked eyes with Simon- it looked at him, shocked, before pointing and shouting, “A _man!_ ” The group stampeded over to them, shouting over one another as each goblin tried to get Simon to focus on her and her alone. They quickly surrounded Simon, pushing Zarga back- two grabbed his arm, and a third grabbed his leg, preventing him from pulling away.

“Wow, a knight!” one of them exclaimed.

“He’s so tall!” An obvious lie- he was only half a head taller than the tallest among them.

“What about that one?” They must have meant Zarga.

The goblin holding Simon’s leg sniffed him. “Nope, doesn’t smell like he’s her husband.”

The goblin holding Simon’s left arm tightened her grip. “I saw him first! He’s mine!”

The goblin holding Simon’s right arm shouted, “Hey no fair! That’s against the rules! Boss gets the first dibs, right boss?

The hobgoblin, who was still trailing behind the others, finally caught up, and looked up at Simon. “Wow,” she said, “he’s-” And then she stopped. She sniffed the air, and stood, frozen. Simon could only look on, confused by the hobgoblin’s behavior…

Then, she leapt on Simon, clawing at his exposed head, and snarling like a rabid animal. “ _Gah!_ ” Simon cried out as the small girl savagely scratched at him with her claws. The goblins holding him let go in surprise, freeing his hands, So he grabbed the hobgoblin under her arms, pried her off, before throwing her to the ground and kicking her back.

But Simon quickly realized that he and Zarga were in trouble. The rest of the goblins had fallen under the same spell as their leader and surrounded the two, snarling like beasts, bringing out their weapons and waving them dangerously, a strange green glow in their eyes.

“What did you do, Simon!?” the gazer snapped.

“What!? How is this _my_ fault!?” he asked, drawing his sword.

Three goblins rushed toward him, swinging their clubs wildly. He dodged the first, and the second, but had unbalanced himself in his retreat. He raised his sword, blocking the third goblin’s strike, but his whole body shook from the impact of her blow. Despite their size, goblins were incredibly strong- if he wasn’t careful, they could overpower him with ease.

“Hold it right there!” Zarga shouted, her eyes glowing. A few of the goblins froze in place, but there were plenty of others still moving straight toward them. They swung at Simon wildly. He evaded their attacks where he could, blocking and parrying what he couldn’t avoid. But that was all he could do. There were too many, and their attacks came so quickly that he had absolutely no time to counter. He needed to go on the offensive, and soon; he didn’t have the energy to evade them forever.

Then, the moment came. The hobgoblin, the leader, stumbled toward him, her club drawn back for a powerful swing. And when she was in range, she swung her club down, making the ground shake… but she had misjudged the distance between her and Simon, coming a few feet short. So, Simon rushed toward the exposed hobgoblin, sword drawn back, and swung with all his might.

But to his surprise, and with deftness unbecoming of her kind, the hobgoblin ducked under his blade. Then, she pulled back her club, and swung it at Simon’s left leg.

Simon cried out as his knee was forced sideways with a loud _snap._ He collapsed down onto his good knee, unable to rise. His knee burned and pulsed, making him wince- he could only imagine what it must have looked like under his armor.

One of the goblins leapt at him, weapon raised. He tried to parry her attack, but the pain weakened his grip, and she knocked his sword away with ease. Then, throwing her own weapon aside, she grabbed him, jaws wide and aimed to bite at his neck. He grabbed her head, trying to push her back, but the small goblin had much more strength than her small body should have permitted, and she inched forward, teeth snapping.

Then, something grabbed Simon roughly from behind, and a sharp pain flared through the left side of his neck. Simon cried out in pain- he lost his grip, and the goblin lunged forward, biting down on the right side of his neck. Simon felt warm blood flow from his wounds into his armor- he pushed against the goblins, but he was rapidly losing strength. Then, fire flared through his neck as the goblin in front pulled back, tearing away a great chunk of his flesh with her teeth. She spat it out, before diving again, sinking her teeth into the fresh wound.

Simon choked, feeling blood rush into his open throat. His strength left him, and he felt himself being shoved to the ground. The feeling in his limbs was gone, replaced by a cold numbness. The last thing he saw before his vision faded was the goblin tearing away another chunk of flesh with her teeth, before diving in for a third bite.

* * *

 

Simon awakened.

“ _Ah!_ ” Zarga stumbled back, before taking a step toward Simon, blinking in surprise. “God, I swear I’m never gonna get used to that.”

Simon stood up from his kneeling position, and looked around. He was in the cave he and Zarga had camped in the night before. He took stock of himself- his armor had a lot of new scratches, but was still intact, and he himself was unharmed. He reached up, touching the right side of his neck, but of course, there was nothing there. He then looked to Zarga. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied. “The goblins all took off after you went down.” She blinked, her expression one of disbelief. “But what the hell was that all about? I’ve never seen a monster snap like that.”

“I can answer that,” a new voice replied.

A swirling cloud of black smoke appeared in the air across from them. The cloud twisted and billowed, gradually taking on the familiar form of a certain lilim.

“Lady Velvet!” Zarga exclaimed. “Were you watching us this whole time?”

“Yes. I’ve been monitoring your progress ever since you left the castle.” Velvet… or rather Velvet’s shade kept her gaze firmly fixed on Zarga as she said this.

Zarga looked away sheepishly, mumbling. So Simon asked in her stead, “What happened with those goblins?”

Velvet’s shade asked a question of her own in reply. “Do you remember what I said when we first met?”

Simon furrowed his brow as he thought back. Velvet had said a lot in their first meeting, so her words didn’t exactly narrow things down. But although Simon didn’t remember, Cassandra seemingly did, because she emerged. “You said that the scent of monster blood hangs over Simon like a cloud,” the ghost replied.

“That’s right,” Velvet’s shade replied, nodding. “The scent of monster blood permeates your very being, Simon. It hangs over you so strongly, that it awakens instincts set in place by the previous Monster Overlords, instincts that were supposed to have been sealed away by my mother, causing them to lash out and attack you.”

In the old days, before the current Overlord, monsters were just that- monstrous beings that prowled the land, devouring the flesh of humans without pity or mercy. Although Alba hadn’t come to be until after the current Overlord came to power, Simon knew this. And he knew the current Overlord, a succubus, had altered the nature of monsters, making them into lustful beings who fed on men’s semen rather than their flesh. But, this was the first Simon had ever heard about monsters retaining their old, murderous instincts. “Really?” he asked. “I know monsters attacking people isn’t normal, but the Inquisition always assumed it was because the Overlord ordered monsters to kill any Purifiers they came across.”

“Mother would _never_ make such a command,” Velvet snapped. She then took a breath to calm herself. “It’s true you Purifiers have killed plenty of our kind, but Mother would never want to see humans hurt, even if they hurt _us_ first.” Velvet’s shade crossed her arms. “But, this instinct triggered by the scent of our blood is so ingrained into the fabric of monsterkind, it overrides Mother's newest commandments.”

“And I assume that by killing more monsters, the problem will only get worse,” Cassandra said.

Velvet nodded. “That’s correct.”

Zarga huffed. “Great. So not only do we have to deal with Alba and the Order, but the monsters who we’re supposed to ask for help are gonna try to kill us, too?”

“There has to be something we can do” Simon said. “We can’t _not_ fight for our whole journey.”

The four fell silent. Simon thought and thought, but no solutions came to him. But once again, where he faltered, Cassandra remained firm: “I just remembered something. Silver. It wounds a person or monster’s magical energy, disabling them without killing them.”

“Yeah, that’s right!” Zarga exclaimed. “We’ve just gotta find you a weapon made out of demon realm silver!” she looked to Velvet’s shade. “Lady Velvet! Are there any towns nearby?”

Velvet looked away, presumably at something back in the castle. “…there _is_ a village a few miles southeast of where you are now. Normally, I wouldn’t allow this, but… In the interest of your safety, I give you permission to go and retrieve a weapon suitable for your journey.”

* * *

 

Simon and Zarga waited until dawn before setting out, or at least, what Zarga claimed was dawn in this land of perpetual darkness.

Zarga had skipped over their “nightly activities,” finally giving Simon time to think. He reflected on everything that had happened to him. On the assignment he’d been given. And now, on his strange affliction. What Zarga and Cassandra had said was true- things were going to be very difficult if he kept inciting the monsters who were supposed to help them into attacking. But what could he do? Was there some way to purge himself? And perhaps more importantly-

“What’s wrong, Simon?” Zarga suddenly asked. “You’re not upset those goblins beat you, are you?”

Simon shook his head. “No, it’s not that. With just the two of us, we never could have beaten that many in a straight fight. I was thinking about what Velvet said.”

Zarga tilted her head. “About the monster blood thing?”

Simon nodded. “Yeah. What she said makes sense- monsters always tried to kill Purifiers rather than capture them. And since I had the highest number of kills in my unit, monsters always went after _me_ first. But when we first met, you and Velvet didn’t try to kill me. Neither has Cassandra. I’m trying to figure out why.”

Zarga walked calmly with her hands behind her head, swaying slightly. “Lady Velvet is strong. Much stronger than a normal monster. So she can probably just suppress the instincts triggered by your scent. Plus, lilims didn’t exist in the days of the old Overlords. That might have something to do with it, too.”

Simon looked over to the gazer. “Well, what about you, Zarga?”

Zarga rested her hand on her chin. “Not sure. Lady Velvet _did_ put a spell on me before she let me see you, though. Maybe it blocks out that killer instinct.” She breathed in, looking at him with her single eye. He couldn’t determine her expression- one-eyed monsters were always hard to read. “But,” she began in a low voice, “I have to admit, there are… _times_ , when… your flesh looks… pretty _tasty…_ ” Zarga smiled at him, showing far too many teeth for his liking. Then with a snarl, she lunged at him, arms outstretched. In the blink of an eye, Simon shoved her back, his hand flying to his sword.

Zarga quickly stumbled back, hands raised, all her eyes focused on him. “ _Whoa whoa whoa, hey! That was just a joke!_ ”

Simon froze, but for once, it was of his own volition. He remained frozen, glaring at the gazer. “You really shouldn’t joke about that sort of thing around a monster hunter,” he said curtly. Then he turned, and began walking down the road, Zarga racing to catch up with him.

It took a few hours before the two reached the village. And a village it truly was- a small scattering of houses surrounded by farmer’s fields. And in the streets, he could see men and monsters walking alongside one another openly, unashamed. Simon’s assignments had taken him to many small villages like this.

Though, he wasn’t here on assignment. And perhaps for the first time, he wouldn’t be the last person to leave the village alive.

The two entered the town, Simon making sure to keep his distance from any monsters. It didn’t take long to find what they were looking for- a small building near the center of the village with smoke pouring from a large metal cylinder just outside- a smelter. A sign hung from a post above the door: a blacksmith’s anvil. “Well that was easy,” Zarga said.

“Wait here,” Simon said. “It shouldn’t take long.” He then entered the smithy.

The interior was small, as expected. There wasn’t much in the way of weapons- most of what was on display were tools, hinges, a few plow blades… simple tools to fit the simple needs of people who worked the land. Still, a few swords hung proudly on the walls, and a sturdy looking breastplate hung on a mannequin by the counter.

A man was behind the counter, bent over something laying on a wooden work table at the far side of the room, but he turned his attention to Simon as he entered. He was large, and bald, but with a thick bushy black beard and heavy clothes, no doubt to protect him from stray sparks. “I’ll be with you in just a minute,” he called. After a moment, he approached the counter. “Welcome. I don’t exactly have an armory here, but I’ve got the finest steel for miles around.”

Simon leaned against the counter slightly. “I’m looking for silver, not steel.”

The blacksmith laughed. “You wanna buy a bridge while you’re at it?”

Simon didn’t laugh.

The blacksmith's smile faded, and he leaned against the counter with a sigh. “Look. We’re a simple farming village. Worst we deal with is wolves. Maybe one of the merchants who comes through here might have what you need, but if you’re looking to hunt monsters, then you’ll need to take your business elsewhere.” The man’s voice took on a hard edge with his last few words.

Simon let out a disappointed sigh, though in truth, he knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Silver weapons were a rare commodity for all but the largest cities. There was no chance a tiny smithy at the heart of a farming village would have what he needed. And setting that aside, he was in monster-friendly territory. He doubted there were many who would want to do business with him if they thought he would harm them or someone they cared for. He turned away from the counter…

“ _Cliiiive!_ ” A shout rang out from outside. The smithy door was thrown open, and a brown blur ran in. It raced to the counter, shoving Simon aside. “Clive! You’ve gotta help us!”

Now that it was standing still, Simon could see that the brown blur was in fact a girl. A girl with small, furry brown ears, and an enormous, bushy squirrel’s tail covered in brown fur. She was clearly some variety of monster, but it was not a species he was familiar with.

The blacksmith leaned over the counter. “Slow down, Mara. What happened?”

“Gobins!” she shouted. “Jake and I were coming through the woods, and they came out of nowhere! Dragged him off with all of our merchandise!”

“The goblins again? Thought they knew better by now.” The blacksmith shook his head, pushing himself away from the counter.  “I’ll get my hammer.”

“Hold on,” Simon said, looking to the squirrel girl. “These goblins… you said you ran into them in the woods, right? Were there around twelve in all, led by a hobgoblin?”

The squirrel girl blinked in surprise. “Y-Yeah. They did. How did you-?”

“I have unfinished business with them.” Simon looked around the smithy, until he spotted something: a small rack of wooden swords of various lengths. He picked up the longest one, and tested its weight. It certainly wouldn’t hold up in a clash against a real weapon, but against the simple clubs most goblins preferred, it would suffice. He looked to the blacksmith, and held up the wooden sword. “I’ll take this.”

The blacksmith blinked, clearly taken aback. “Of… course,” he replied slowly. “It’ll be-”

Simon undid the cinch holding his sword to his belt, and dropped it on the counter. “I don’t have any money. So, I’ll let you keep this this until I come back.” He then looked to the squirrel girl. “Can you take me to where you were attacked?”

“Uh… s-sure…” she replied hesitantly. She left the smithy, and Simon followed.

“Oh hey, you’re…” Zarga began as she approached, but fell quiet when she saw the sword in Simon’s hand. “That… doesn't look like silver.”

Inside his head, Cassandra said, “Simon, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Simon looked down at his sword. “As long as I don’t draw any blood, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

* * *

 

 Mara led Simon and Zarga deep into the woods. The whole time, the former captain kept his grip tight on his sword, expecting that at any moment, the squirrel girl would turn and attack. But for whatever reason, she kept her composure, until she led them to an overturned cart deep in the woods. “Well… here we are,” she said.

Simon walked up to the cart, examining the ground. There were a lot of footprints, much smaller than a human’s, and two sets of drag marks; one set was a pair of straight lines, but the other was much less clean, with holes torn out of the earth, obviously made by someone who was unwilling to be taken away. There was little doubt in Simon’s mind- goblins had done this. And fortunately, they weren’t smart enough to cover their tracks. “Zarga, do you think you can follow this trail?”

She crossed her arms indignantly. “Do I look like a bloodhound to you?”

“Alright… what about you?” He looked at the squirrel girl.

The squirrel girl jolted, clearly surprised. “M-Me? I… I guess so…” She began to sniff around the cart, until her tail suddenly bristled. “I’ve got his scent!” she shouted.

“Nice work, Simon said. “You take the lead. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

In his training, it had been emphasized to Simon and the other initiates countless times that monsters were superior to humans in virtually every way: They were stronger, faster, had sharper senses, were more skilled in magic… the only reason humanity hadn’t been completely overtaken was because of the Chief God’s favor (according to the Order) and the Sacred Flame’s Barrier (according to the Chantry). But now, he was relying on that superiority to find these goblins.

As the squirrel girl moved through the trees, sniffing around, Zarga and Simon hung back, watching her. Zarga had a hand on her chin, her usual smugness gone, replaced with a more… pensive expression. “There’s something weird about all this…” she said.

“Weird about what?” Simon asked.

The gazer looked over. “Goblins _are_ mischievous, and do attack people to rob them, but they wouldn’t normally abduct another monster’s husband.”

Simon blinked in surprise. _Husband?_ But, it matched what he’d been taught about monster behavior: they pursued men aggressively, but after capturing one, most remained devoted solely to their “partner.” “Do you think they’re still riled up because of _me?”_ he asked.

Zarga nodded. “Probably. We need to stay on our toes once we find them.”

Simon turned his attention back to the squirrel girl. She was still sniffing around ahead, until all at once, she darted back to him. “We’re close to the goblins’ camp. You can smell them all over.”

It was true. Even Simon could smell their musk. So he crouched down, tightening the grip on his sword, and signaled for Zarga and the squirrel girl to gather. “I’ll take the lead from here. Stay behind me, and don’t make any noise.”

The three pressed on, with Simon in the lead. He crept through the underbrush, making as little noise as possible, with Zarga and the squirrel girl following behind. The surrounding trees grew larger and larger as they pushed deeper into the woods, twisting into strange, unnatural forms. But through the gloom, Simon could hear voices, and a light shone somewhere up ahead. He pressed on, and soon, nestled between the roots of a truly enormous tree, he found the goblins’ camp.

A dozen tiny, ramshackle shacks made of wood, cloth, and whatever else the goblins could find were scattered haphazardly across the camp. At the far end, by the base of the tree, was another shack, much larger than the others. The goblins were there, dancing in front of a large bonfire, singing a song that seemed to consist mostly of the word “sex.” The hobgoblin was there too, sitting in front of the largest shack on top of a large chest, looking very pleased with herself. Simon looked around, but didn’t see any signs of a human man among them.

The squirrel girl tried to walk past Simon, into the camp, but Simon grabbed her wrist to stop her. “No,” he said firmly. “You stay here too, Zarga. I’ll handle this.” He then stood, and weaved his way through the shacks, until he was standing in front of the bonfire.

The goblins noticed him right away. They sniffed the air, and snarled at him. But Simon didn’t back down. Now that he was properly equipped, he wouldn't be taken down so easily. Ignoring the lesser goblins, he raised his sword, and pointed it at the hobgoblin. “You’re gonna give back what you stole.”

With a growl, the hobgoblin stood up, grabbing a weapon resting beside her against the chest. It was _not_ a simple club- rather, it was a gleaming battleaxe with two blades. The other goblins must have understood Simon was challenging their leader alone, because they backed away, surrounding him and hurling all manner of insults, but didn’t dare to come closer. Simon sucked in a breath through his teeth as he watched the hobgoblin circle the bonfire to meet him, regretting asking Zarga to not back him up. But this was alright. She may have had power, but even with his armor, he could beat her through speed.

The hobgoblin stopped about ten paces away from Simon. Then with a snarl, she ran towards him, axe raised, the weight from her chest threatening to throw her off-balance and send her to the ground. But she reached him, swinging her axe down. Simon dodged to the side, countering with a swing of his own. But the hobgoblin drew back, putting the shaft of the battleaxe between herself and Simon as a shield. His sword clattered against the shaft, and Simon pulled back. As he did, the hobgoblin gripped the axe and spun, winding up for a powerful horizontal swing. Instinctively, Simon raised his sword to block the blow… before remembering his sword, made of wood, would provide no protection. So, he hastily ducked under the hobgoblin’s swing. It was close, too close- Simon was sure a good number of the hairs on his head were a bit shorter now.

Simon thrust his sword at the hobgoblin- he hit his mark, but left no wound. Not that she seemed to react to it. She pulled back for another overhead swing. He dogged to the side, hitting her back, but again, she barely reacted to it. _Should have asked for that hammer_ , Simon thought. But then, the hobgoblin drove her axe into the ground, and rushed Simon, pulling back her fist to punch him in the stomach. There was a dull _thud_ as the hobgoblin’s fist hit his armor, lifting him off his feet and forcing the air out of his lungs. He fell the ground, landing on his stomach. The impact had made Simon drop his sword- gasping, he reached for it, but the hobgoblin grabbed it and threw it away. Then, she turned, grabbing her axe as Simon slowly rose to his feet. She began to swing- Simon rushed toward the hobgoblin, grabbing her forearms in a desperate attempt to stop her.

But then, something happened. Simon’s hands glowed, and a strange mist seemed to flow from the hobgoblin, into his own body. The hobgoblin let out a tired breath and sank to her knees, dropping her axe. But Simon on the other hand… Simon felt incredible. He felt strong. Like he could lift an elephant with one hand.

So, he grabbed the hobgoblin’s axe, and picked it up. He’d trained with them before, but he’d never liked them- even the strongest men in the Purifiers struggled to keep them under control. But he lifted the battleaxe with one hand with ease, as if he’d picked up a blade of grass. The hobgoblin looked up, and must have realized she was in trouble, as she tried to crawl back and out of his reach. But Simon didn’t give her a chance to run. He raised the axe, turning it in his hands to strike with the flat side of the head rather than the blade, and swung with all his might at the hobgoblin.

The axe rang out like a bell when he struck his target. The hobgoblin was sent flying, tumbling over the ground, crashing through one of the shacks before hitting the root of the great tree hard enough to bend it slightly with a reverberating _crack_. She sank to the ground, motionless. The jeers from the other goblins were silenced in an instant. Calmly, Simon drew a line in the dirt with the axe’s blade by his feet, and pointed it at the surrounding crowd. “Who’s next?”

Terrified screams erupted from the goblins as they fled in all directions, quickly disappearing into the surrounding trees. In moments, the camp was empty. Simon let out a breath, and tossed the axe away.

But after a moment, he realized he wasn’t alone. He could hear someone shouting. It was a man’s voice, coming from the largest shack: “Hey! What the hell’s going on out there?” It had to be the man he was looking for, Jake. So he hurried to the source of the sound, and peered inside the shack.

Inside, a man was lying on a cushion, bound by ropes. He looked fairly young, no older than Simon, with messy blonde hair and clothes that, while not extravagant, were still finer than the average peasant’s. “Wait, who’re you?” he asked- clearly, he hadn’t expected another human to find him.

“Are you Jake?” Simon asked. The answer seemed obvious, but as he’d learned, jumping to any conclusions would only invite disaster.

The man nodded, at least as much as his position allowed him to. “Yeah. I am. But, who’re _you?_ ”

Simon entered the shack, and quickly untied the man. “Just a traveler. Your friend was looking for someone to rescue you.”

Jake stood, rubbing the places where he’d been bound. “Wait, are you talking about Mara?” He let out a short laugh. “Hah! I knew she wouldn’t let me down!”

Simon stepped aside, giving the other man room to step out of the shack. As soon as he emerged, a brown blur raced up to the blonde man, almost knocking him over. “ _Jake!_ ” Mara cried, crawling all over the man. “Oh my goodness you’re okay! They didn’t violate you, did they?”

Zarga walked up to Simon slowly, all of her eyes wide as she looked at him. “Whoa… where was _that_ when you were fighting Lady Velvet?”

Eventually, Jake calmly grabbed the squirrel girl, and set her down with ease. “I’m just fine, Mara. See?” He then looked to Simon. “How can I ever repay you for this?”

A reward. The blacksmith’s words echoed through Simon’s head: _Maybe one of the merchants who comes through here might have what you need…_ So, Simon replied bluntly, “If you have any demon realm silver, I’ll take that.”

The squirrel girl blinked. “Demon realm silver?” she asked.

Simon nodded. “Yes. I need enough to make a sword.”

“A silver sword?” Jake asked. He visibly tightened his grip on Mara. “So you’re one of _those_ fellas, then? Whaddya call ‘em… Witchers?”

Simon shook his head. He’d never heard the term in his life. “Nothing of the sort,” he replied. “I have somewhere I need to be, and I’d prefer to not hurt anyone on the way if I can help it.”

Jake finally relaxed. “Well, funny you should mention that.” He looked to the squirrel girl. “Mara. Bring him the thing.”

“What? But that’s…” Mara trailed off, before scurrying to the chest in the middle of the camp. She opened it, and after digging through for a few moments, pulled out something. She hurried back to Simon, and held out the item she’d retrieved

It was a longsword sheathed in a black scabbard. Simon could tell by the hilt alone that the blade would be a work of art- the cross guard was overlaid with silver in a distinct Y shape, the grip was made of black leather, like the sheath, and the pommel was an open silver circle, filled with a small golden cross. He unsheathed the sword slightly. The blade was beautiful, reflecting him like a mirror. Steel could reflect, but this blade had a clarity to it that simply couldn’t be matched. “It’s a fine blade,” Simon said, sheathing the sword once more. “Silver, I take it?”

The man beamed. “You’ve a good eye. It is. Bought it off an innkeeper way out west. He’d had it for thirty years- apparently, a man left it in his care and never came back for it. We were planning to sell it when we got to Ost, but I get the feeling it’ll be more useful in _your_ hands than hanging on some nobleman’s wall.”

Simon looked up to the man. “I get the feeling that there’s a catch to this.”

Jake scratched his head. “Well, I was hoping you would help us out. If you do, then you can keep the sword. Payment for services rendered.”

“You need _more_ help?” Zarga asked, sounding incredulous. “Saving you wasn’t enough?”

The man looked over at Zarga. “Well, before we got sidetracked, we were heading to the Kingdom of Ost. And this whole incident got me thinking that we should hire ourselves a bodyguard.” He glanced over to Simon. “And your friend over there seems to know a thing or two about fighting monsters.”

Simon looked down at the sword. It would definitely be a useful tool… but he and Zarga had a mission. They didn’t have time for diversions. He held the sword out, toward Jake. “I’m sorry. But I can’t take this. My friend and I are heading to Ikana. We can’t make any detours.”

Jake didn’t have a chance to say anything as Mara stepped forward. “I’m guessing you don’t get out much, do you?” She walked up to Simon, pulling out a rolled up parchment, and showed it to him. It was a map- he saw Alba, the Lostlands, the “Kingdom of Ost…” and a region nestled between the Lostlands and Ost labelled, “The Dead Kingdom of Ikana.”

“Ikana’s one of our stops between Lutheinn and Ost,” Mara continued. “If you’re heading there, we’d be more than happy to give you a ride.”

Simon didn’t answer as he looked down at the sword. There wasn’t much to say. The merchant would carry him and Zarga to their destination, and he’d get a silver sword for his troubles. All he had to do was fight off monsters.

And he was very, very good at that.

Simon held out his hand with a smile to the squirrel girl. “I think we have ourselves a deal.”


	7. Kingdom of the Dead

**6: Kingdom of the Dead**

 

“ _Noooooooo!_ ”

The squirrel girl cried as tentacles held her aloft, forcing her knees apart. A third tentacle rose up to her, drawing back to plunge between her legs… but before it could, Simon sliced the roots of all three tentacles. At once, they dropped the girl, and fell to the ground. As the girl struggled to rise, Simon pulled her to her feet. “Get back to the cart,” he ordered. “Zarga and I can take care of this.” Another tentacle snaked out from the underbrush, aimed toward the girl, but Simon cut it down with ease, like the others.

“But what about Jake! I won’t leave him out here!” she shouted back.

Another tentacle darted towards Simon. But there was a brilliant flash of light, and a bright beam of light burned a hole through its trunk, forcing the tendril to withdraw. “Leave him to us,” Zarga said, her eye still shining a brilliant red. “You just worry about yourself right now.” The squirrel girl tensed, but ultimately relented, running away in the direction opposite of where the tentacles emerged.

Another pair of tentacles emerged from the darkness, speeding towards the two. Simon braced himself, and sliced one tendril down the middle. But before he could turn to the other, a white-hot beam shot out of Zarga’s eye, cutting the second tendril in half. It wailed, and withdrew into the shadows, leaving behind only the scent of smoke.

But those tendrils were far from alone. A half dozen more slowly crept forward, poised to strike. Simon readied himself, and asked aloud, “I don’t suppose you can hypnotize these tentacles into… _not_ attacking us, could you?”

Zarga glanced over to him. “My hypnosis needs eye contact to work,” she replied. “You see any eyes on those things?” Sure enough, the tentacles were without eyes, or seemingly any kind of sensory organ.

Simon tensed. “Alright then. The hard way it is.” He then charged at the closest tentacle, thrusting his sword deep into its body.

For the last two days, the journey to Ikana had been uneventful. In that time, Simon had learned more about his traveling companions- they were merchants, as he suspected, who made their living trading between various cities on the continent. He’d also learned the squirrel girl was a species known as a ratatoskr- they specialized in gathering and distributing information, but had neither physical nor magical strength, so kept far from the front lines. Even so, he made sure his sword was ready in case the scent of monster blood overpowered her sense of reason.

However, their peace was short-lived. After all, danger lurked in every shadow in the monster realm, and not always in the form of randy females. And sure enough, as they journeyed down a road cutting through a particularly thick forest, a swarm of tentacles shot out from the surrounding trees, plucking the four from their wagon. Despite the terrified cries of his companions, however, Simon remained calm, and easily cut himself down with his new sword. He didn’t believe he’d provoked the tentacle plants into attacking- lack of noses aside, they were known to attack both men and women indiscriminately of their own accord. It seemed that they’d simply come to the wrong place at the wrong time.

With one final swing, Simon cut down the last tentacle. At that moment, his attention was drawn by a loud shout. He followed it, forcing their way through the undergrowth with Zarga hot on his heels, and found Jake, arms wrapped tightly around a tree as a tentacle pulled on his legs. “ _Aaagh! Why does this keep happening to me!?_ ” he cried.

Simon rushed toward the tentacle wrapped around Jake’s legs, hacking through it with a single swing and sending the merchant sprawling on the ground. He thought silver wasn’t supposed to harm monsters, but his sword cut through the tentacles as though they were any other plant. But he then remembered his lessons in monster ecology. Tentacle plants gradually gained sentience through exposure to demonic energy- in all likelihood, these plants were still developing, and thus, not fully sentient.

Jake quickly climbed to his feet, pulling up his trousers. “I guess that’s another one I owe you.”

“Aren’t you embarrassed to have to have to be saved so much?” Zarga asked, arms crossed. “Don’t you have any pride as a man?”

“None so cheap to be shaken up by something like this,” the merchant replied indignantly. “This isn’t even the first time this year I’ve been kidnapped.”

Zarga’s attention snapped to something to her left, and she fired another white beam from one of the eyes at the end of her tentacles. Simon looked just in time to see the beam burn a hole into another tentacle trying to creep up on them through the trees, which then collapsed. The gazer turned back to Jake. “You should get back to Mara. Simon and I have something to take care of.”

“What are you talking about?” Simon asked, confused. “We found Jake. So let’s back to the cart and get out of here before those tentacles can regroup.”

Zarga shook her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be an expert on hunting monsters? Tentacles are like zombies- they just keep coming at you until you get rid of the head.”

“Huh?” Simon asked again.

The gazer huffed. “Come on, you saw how coordinated those tentacles were. They’ve got a leader nearby. And until we take it out, they’ll just keep coming.”

Simon hated to admit it, but Zarga has a point. These tentacles seemed much more intelligent than the norm, striking when their backs were turned, or from angles that were difficult to counter against. If there _was_ an intelligence leading them, it was doubtful it would let them go so easily. So, Simon gave Jake a small nod, and the merchant scurried off, before asking, “So how do we find this ‘leader?’”

“That’s easy,” Zarga replied. “Leaders can only control tentacle plants within a certain radius, so she has to be somewhere nearby. So, we’ll follow the path of greatest resistance- the more tentacles we run into, the closer we’re getting.” One of her eye-stalks pointed ahead, behind Simon. “Most of the tentacles came from that direction. Seems like the best place to start looking.”

Simon was surprised by the gazer’s solid deductive skills. But, her reasoning was solid. So he nodded and replied, “Alright then. Let’s go.” He turned, creeping through the brush as he moved deeper into the woods.

It didn’t take long for Simon to become unsettled. Although they moved deeper and deeper, no more tentacles attacked. But _something_ was out there with them- he could hear the cracking of branches, and the rustle of leaves as whatever it was moved about, always out of sight, but still too close for comfort. Although he knew he shouldn’t be distracting himself, Simon needed to do something to break the tension. So he asked out loud, “How long have you been able to do that?”

“Do… _what?_ ” Zarga asked.

Simon scratched his head. “Well, fire beams of light from your eyes.” He only realized how ridiculous the question sounded when he asked it out loud. Gazers were best known for their hypnotic eye, but as monsters with strong innate magic, they made excellent mages, and had plenty of other skills at their disposal.

Zarga gave Simon an incredulous look. “Uh… since I was born? Magic like that’s nothing for me.” She stumbled slightly, but caught herself before Simon could intervene. “Well, okay, _that_ particular spell takes a lot out of me. I think I’ve got maybe one good shot left in me before I drop.”

Simon heard leaves rustling- he peered into the brush ahead, but if there was something there, it was lying in the darkness just outside the range of his vision. “Then you’d best save that last shot for when it really counts.”

There was no answer.

“Zarga?” He looked back. But the gazer was nowhere in sight. The two had just entered a small break in the trees- not large by any means, but large enough that there was nowhere for the gazer to easily hide herself. Simon tightened his grip on his sword, raising it warily. “ _Zarga_. Now _really_ isn’t the time for games.”

“ _Hhhgggmmgh!_ ” a muffled voice cried out. That harsh tone unmistakably belonged to Zarga, but the sound didn’t come from the surrounding trees. It came from… _above_ him. Simon looked up.

In his line of work, Simon had encountered plenty of monsters that showed exceptional intelligence, but the tentacle girl nestled in the tree branches above was particularly clever. Not only had it snuck up on them through the branches overhead, where it was both out of sight and out of reach, it also knew how to disable Zarga as well, wrapping its tentacles over her many eyes to block her hypnotizing gaze. The gazer struggled, but the plant girl held her firmly with two of its “legs,” pinning her arms to her sides. The rest of its tentacles were… caressing the gazer’s body, making her squirm, sliding over her thighs, her stomach, her chest. One tentacle in particular… thrust itself in and out of Zarga’s mouth in a very…provocative way. It was such a _vulgar_ sight, but for a moment, Simon was completely transfixed.

The tentacle girl shuddered in pleasure. “ _Mmmmm…_ ” she moaned. “This one has such a wonderful mouth.” It looked down on him, smiling. “Oh, what’s with that face? Don’t tell me she’s never indulged you like this.”

Simon steeled himself, pointing his sword up at the monster. “Come on down here and fight me.” His words sounded confident, but internally Simon was cursing. He was at a total disadvantage. Climbing was out of the question- any lesser tentacles nearby would just pull him down before he could reach their leader. Throwing his sword wouldn’t work, either- the tentacles could easily catch it, leaving him defenseless. He didn’t have any firebombs, but even if he did, there was too much risk of Zarga being hurt by the blast. He cursed himself again, wishing he’d asked for a bow as well. His only chance was in an even fight, but with no leverage, there was no reason for the tentacle girl to oblige.

And the tentacle girl knew it. “I don’t think I’m gonna do that,” she replied, as another group of tentacles emerged from the brush near the ground, surrounding Simon and cutting off any avenue of escape. “I’m gonna stay right here and watch you tire yourself out. Once you’re good and exhausted, I’ll pin you down, and fuck your friend in front of you. If you put on a good enough show, I might even let you have a turn.”

Simon gritted his teeth. The Inquisition’s archives had made no mention of tentacle plants that could speak and lead others. So it was impossible to determine whether his scent was influencing her, or if this behavior was normal.

The tentacles shot towards Simon. He cut one with a horizontal swing, and then a second as it tried to grab his wrist, and a third when it tried to wrap around his waist. But then, something yanked at his ankle, and he was pulled off his feet. Quickly, Simon swung down, cutting the tentacle that had grabbed him, and rose back to his feet. Fortunately, it seemed the tentacles weren’t affected by the scent of monster blood, as they didn’t grab sensitive areas such as his neck, nor did they pull especially hard when they _did_ grab him, seeming to prefer to immobilize rather than dismember him. Even so, the tentacles kept coming, no matter how many Simon cut down. And although exhaustion wasn’t an issue for him, it would only be a matter of time before he made a mistake, and the tentacles got the better of him.

But as it turned out, he wouldn’t have to wait. The tentacle girl watched him, her delight slowly replaced with irritation as Simon continued to resist. Until she could stand it no longer. “ _That’s it._ ” The plant girl raised up one of her “arms;” it split open, revealing dozens of tiny tendrils within. She then reached for Simon, her arm easily stretching over the twenty feet or so between them, and grabbed his sword arm. The tiny tendrils wrapped around him, grabbing his wrist, his elbow, his bicep, and tried to work their way under his fingers to loosen his grip on his sword. “Let’s see how well you fight _without_ that sword of yours!” Simon pulled back, trying to break the tentacle’s grip, but he felt as if dozens of hands were holding onto him. Even with her arm stretched out, the tentacle girl’s grip didn’t seem to weaken at all. Simon pushed against the tentacle with his free hand, but it refused to budge even slightly…

Then, Simon’s hand began to glow. A mist flowed from the tentacle into his own body, and the tentacle girl’s unbreakable grip finally slackened, and Simon pulled himself free. He stumbled back, looking down at the mist surrounding his hand in shock. It was just like with the hobgoblin. But the sensation filling his body was… different. He didn’t feel an overwhelming surge of strength- rather, he felt a presence. _Several_ presences, all in the surrounding woods. He could… feel one of them drawing close. He looked back, sword raised, to be confronted by one of the lesser tentacles. But, it didn’t do anything. It didn’t grab him, or swing at him. It simply hung in the air, waiting.

A long, shuddering breath drew Simon’s attention. It was the tentacle girl, still in the tree, but looking noticeably more exhausted. Her arm had retracted to its original length, and she no longer toyed with Zarga, simply holding her tightly. “ _What did you do to me?_ ” she demanded.

At the same time Simon looked to the plant girl, the tentacle turned itself toward her as well. It was at that moment that he understood. It sounded completely absurd, but he had no other explanation for what was happening, for the strange sensations he felt. But, he had a chance to test it. He looked to the tentacle girl in the tree, before pointing his sword at her and shouting “Get her!”

The tentacle at his side darted toward the girl, along with a dozen others from the surrounding woods. The tentacle girl’s eyes widened in shock, and she gasped, before throwing herself forward to another bundle of branches, evading the cluster of lesser tentacles. As she did, Zarga slipped from her grasp, and began to fall.

“Shit! Zarga!” Simon ran toward the gazer, but one of the tentacles turned, and wrapped itself around her, stopping her fall. Simon stumbled to a stop. He hadn’t ordered the tentacle to catch her. He simply thought that he had to catch her, and the tentacles obeyed.

But then, a loud _crack_ , and the rustle of leaves caught Simon’s attention. Up above, one of the tentacles had grabbed the plant girl- she held onto a nearby tree with her tendrils, but it strained, cracking and bending as the lesser tentacle tried to pull her away. _Bring her down here_ , Simon thought. And the tentacle obeyed- there was another crack as the tree finally gave and broke, and the tentacle pulled the girl away, throwing her on the ground a few feet away from Simon.

In an instant, the tentacle girl shot to her “feet,” a furious glare on her face. “You think you can turn my friends against me?” she barked. One of the tentacles turned and darted toward Simon, but he cut it down before it could grab him. She held out her arm- in his head, he could feel the lesser tentacles’ presences vanish. She must have reasserted control over them, but he wouldn’t give her a chance to strike. He dashed towards her, pulling back his sword. The tentacles shot toward him- Simon dived under them, rolled to the tentacle girl’s “feet,” and swung upwards with all his strength.

A shock reverberated through Simon’s arms. He felt the unmistakable sensation of his blade cutting into the tentacle girl’s body… but it passed through her, as if she were a ghost. But even if his blade left no wound, it still had an effect- that strange mist appeared once more, billowing out of her body in a line across her upper body, where his blade had passed through her. The plant girl let out a gasp, and grabbed her chest with her “hands,” but it didn’t stop the flow of mist. She stumbled back, eyes wide. She looked to him, and opened her mouth as if to say something… before she collapsed. As soon as she hit the ground, the lesser tentacles writhed as if in agony, and fell to the ground, unmoving.

Cautiously, Simon approached the tentacle girl. The mist was still flowing from her body, but this would be far from the first time a monster feigned death to lure him into a trap. He knelt over her, sword raised to strike if the monster made any movement, and poked her with his free hand. But Simon found his caution was unnecessary. She was still breathing, but didn’t respond to his touch in the slightest, as though she were in a deep sleep.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Simon stood, and sheathed his sword. “It looks like this demon realm silver really _does_ work,” he mused.

“Uh… Simon!” Zarga’s voice called out. “Could you get me down?” Simon looked back- one of the tentacles was still holding Zarga aloft where it had caught her.

“Just a moment,” he replied, and ordered, “Put her down over here.” The tentacle slithered through the air, and set the gazer down in front of Simon, before retreating back into the darkness.

For several moments, Zarga stared after the tentacle, before turning to face Simon, eye wide. “How did you just do that?”

“I… I don’t know,” Simon confessed. “When I touched that tentacle girl, I… absorbed some kind of energy from her, I think.”

Zarga looked at Simon oddly. He realized she wasn’t looking at him, but… “Cassandra, did you do this?” the gazer asked.

For the first time in the past few days, Cassandra emerged. She’d kept herself hidden while around Jake and Mara; her presence would doubtlessly raise all sorts of questions that they wouldn’t have been able to answer. “I… I didn’t,” she replied glancing to the fallen tentacle girl. “I felt Simon absorb some kind of energy from that monster, but I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

The three fell silent, pondering what this meant. But Simon then shook his head and said. “We can worry about this later. Let’s get back to Mara and Jake.”

“What’s the rush?” Zarga asked, putting her hands on her hips. “That tentacle should be out for a few hours, at least.”

“I’m not worried about her,” Simon replied, glancing to the tentacle girl. “But I’m sure there’s plenty of other monsters creeping around here somewhere.” He then looked to Zarga. “I hope you remember the way back.”

“I know the way,” Cassandra replied, stepping- or rather, _floating_ forward. So, Simon and Zarga followed the ghost as she drifted through the brush back the way they came, returning to Simon once the cart was finally in sight. In that time, Simon kept his sword ready, and Zarga scanned their surrounding with her eye stalks. But no other monsters appeared to confront them, and they stepped onto the small road cutting through the forest without incident.

Mara was the first to notice them approach. “Oh, hey! You made it!” She and Jake were huddled in the back of the cart- Jake held a frying pan, while Mara held a long, sharp kitchen knife, presumably to ward off any tentacles that tried to attack.

“Those tentacles won’t be bothering us again anytime soon,” Zarga said cheerfully. “Thanks for not bailing on us, by the way.”

Jake looked Simon up and down. “Look at you. You’ve barely got a scratch on you! You sure you’re not one of those Witcher fellas?”

Mara looked to Jake, glaring. “This _again_ , Jake? I told you already: there’s no such thing as Witchers…”

Simon didn’t say anything else as Jake and Mara seated themselves at the front of the wagon, still arguing, and he climbed into the back. He could still feel the presence of the tentacles faintly. He concentrated, willing them to come, but they didn’t respond to his commands. It seemed that whatever energy had allowed him to command the tentacles earlier was now exhausted.

Simon replayed the events that had just transpired in his head. That mist that flowed from the tentacle girl after striking her… it had to be her demonic energy. And he’d absorbed it into his own body- her energy, and the hobgoblin’s days before. He knew that ghosts could absorb energy, but only to give themselves a corporeal body, and only spiritual energy from human men, not the demonic energy of other monsters. And he had never heard of a ghost- of _any_ monster- absorbing the energy of another monster and assimilating its abilities as their own. Even monsters that could shape-shift could only assume the other monster’s form, not their abilities. Incubi could be reshaped to suit the preferences of their monster partners, but that reshaping had its own limitations, and monsters couldn’t give their “husbands” powers they themselves didn’t possess. By all rights, what he’d done was impossible. Or, it _should_ have been impossible.

But he’d done it. He’d seen it with his own eyes, felt the effects in his own body.

As the cart began to roll down the path, Simon looked down at his hands. All he could do was mutter to himself, “What the hell is happening to me?”

* * *

 

“So… what are these ‘Witchers’ you’re always bringing up?” Zarga asked.

Mara glared. “Come on, don’t encourage him,” she said sternly.

But Jake ignored his companion’s words, a broad smile on his face. “I was wondering when you’d finally ask about that.” Then his tone darkened. “But anyway, when I was a lad, I heard rumors of a kingdom performing experiments to make the ultimate monster hunter. To make them stronger, faster, better with magic… y’know, all that. Infused people with all kinds of magic, twisted their bodies, practically made them monsters in their own right…”

It had been three days since Simon and the others’ run-in with the tentacles. Thankfully, the group didn’t encounter any further issues on the road. But Simon couldn’t help but feel… unsettled as the group drew closer and closer to Ikana. The scenery had changed, the thick woods giving way to vast, dusty plains where nothing grew, not even weeds.

Jake and Mara drove the wagon from the front seats. Zarga sat just behind them, chatting idly with the other male. Simon kept to the rear, scanning the horizon for any approaching threats, when he spotted a figure on the road ahead. It was still a ways off, but even from their distance, he could recognize that clumsy, loping gait anywhere. “There’s something up ahead,” he said loudly, silencing any further conversation. His suspicions was confirmed as they drew closer to the figure.

A zombie.

She slowly shuffled along the side of the road, seemingly taking no notice of them. But even so, Simon never took his eyes off her, gripping his sword tightly until she disappeared over the horizon behind them. As a Purifier, he had no love for monsters, but it was the undead he despised most of all. And he hated them because of how tempting, how _easy_ it was to underestimate them. They were neither fast nor bright, but they were strong, and wherever one was found, there would always be more nearby. He could name over a dozen men he’d served with who made the mistake of assuming the undead would be easy prey, only to be taken by surprise and torn limb from limb.

“Jake, why didn’t you stop?” Mara asked. “We could’ve given her a lift.”

“I get the feeling our Witcher friend in back wouldn’t have liked that,” the merchant replied, jerking a thumb at Simon- he was still watching the horizon, hand tight around the hilt of his sword.

Zarga reached over, laying a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “You should ease up, you know. There’s gonna be a lot more undead once we reach Ikana.”

Simon only nodded in reply.

Zarga’s words proved true over the next few hours. They passed more and more of the undead as they drew closer to the capital city, mostly zombies and skeletons, but there was the occasional ghost, dullahan, and even a pale, dark-haired woman riding in an ornate coach- a vampire, Simon assumed. Some were alone; some travelled in groups; and some traveled in pairs, accompanied by their incubus partners. More than once did they pass a couple shamelessly making love on the side of the road. Even though he’d been deflowered, Simon couldn’t help but avert his eyes from the sight. How could two people be so open with their affections? he wondered.

As the crowd on the road began to thicken, something became visible over the horizon ahead- an enormous city, with walls of black stone, and bone-white towers rising up from within. Simon couldn’t help but be reminded of the ribcage of some enormous long-dead beast- fitting, for the capital of an undead kingdom.

“There it is,” Jake said. “The Undead Kingdom of Ikana.”

“Spooky,” Zarga said.

Even with the crowd, the cart rolled under the gate before too long, and down the city’s main thoroughfare. Despite being a city of the dead, Simon was struck by how… _lively_ it was. Sure, there was the occasional zombie stumbling clumsily down the street, but others moved with such grace that, were it not for their unnatural complexion, one would have no idea they were actually dead. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the bustle of Solas. It felt like a lifetime ago since Simon had seen so many people.

It…

It _had_ been a lifetime ago, he realized. He’d died- executed as a traitor. His old life- his career, his comrades, they were all gone forever.

“ _Hey!_ ” Zarga called.

Simon jolted from suddenly being brought back into the real world. “Huh? What is it?”

“How long are you gonna sit around? We’ve got things to do, you know.” The cart had come to a stop in front of one of the many buildings lining the thoroughfare. Zarga had climbed out of the wagon, and Jake and Mara were unloading their merchandise, while he sat idly.

That’s right. His old life was over. But he had a _new_ life. _New_ responsibilities.

So Simon climbed out of the cart, and helped unload. Even if they did hire him as a bodyguard, he and Zarga did owe the merchants for the lift. He quickly learned the building they’d stopped in front of was a shop belonging to one of Jake’s friends, who graciously let them stay when they visited, and held their wares as they searched for buyers.

With all four working together, the work was completed quickly, and they gathered at the rear of the cart to discuss their next move. “Right. That takes care of business,” Mara said, and grabbed Jake’s arm, wrapping her arms around it tightly. “We’ll be in town for a few days, so you can go take care of whatever it is you needed to do here.”

“What about you?” Simon asked.

Jake scratched his head nervously as Mara tugged his arm insistently. “We’ve, uh… got our own business to take care of. You know, appraisers and buyers to meet and all that, don’t you worry about us. We’ll meet up back here- _ah, see you later!_ ” By the end of the conversation, Mara was practically dragging Jake back into the shop.

Simon couldn’t help but wonder where the two merchants were headed, when Zarga crossed her arms and said, “Huh. She was getting kinda twitchy the last few days. Guess she was just shy about having an audience.”

Simon looked to Zarga, about to ask what she meant, before the realization of why a man and woman would want to spend time alone together struck. Brushing the thought aside, he instead asked, “So, where do we go from here.”

“There.” Zarga pointed down the road, where an enormous black palace stood. “The palace of Lady Elisanne, ruler of Ikana.” With its rib-like flying buttresses and arched windows and great black spires, the palace was exactly the kind of place Simon could imagine an undead ruler living. All that was missing was an excessive amount of skull decorations.

“Is Lady Elisanne the expert we’re looking for?” Simon asked.

Zarga glanced to Simon. “Not _her_ \- her court mage. A lich named Cleo.”

Simon searched through his memory. Liches; powerful sorceresses who were transformed into the undead, often deliberately through their own actions. Because of their several lifespans’ worth of studies, they had greater knowledge of magic than any human could ever hope to attain. But there was something strange about what Zarga said. Liches were typically solitary. rarely associated with other monsters- even their fellow undead, so it was strange to hear of one not only living in a city, but offering her services to a nation’s ruler.

“She’s not just _any_ lich, though,” Zarga added. “Lady Velvet said she was alive when Alba was founded. She might know something about how the Sacred Flame was made.”

Simon frowned, crossing his arms. “I doubt things will be that convenient for us.”

Zarga scowled at the former captain. “C’mon Simon, a little positive thinking won’t kill you.” She then grabbed his wrist. “But we have something to do first.” Then, she started dragging him away from the cart. But she didn’t drag him toward the palace as he expected. Rather, she dragged him into a nearby alleyway, pulling him deep, until they were well out of sight of passers-by. Once they were far enough away, Zarga pushed Simon against the alley wall, before dropping to her knees and fumbling to remove the armor around his waist.

“H-Hey, what are you-” he began.

“Just shut up and let me suck your dick,” she said. “Most men I’ve known like this sort of thing.”

Simon could only stare down at the gazer. He’d heard rumors that monsters would allow men to violate any orifice they wished, but he never believed it. He always assumed it was an embellishment, if not an outright _lie_ , to make monsters seem more depraved than they truly were. He managed to stammer out, “Y-Y-You, don’t have to-”

Her hands stopped and she looked up at him, eye narrowed. “Believe me, I know. But… you did kinda save me from that tentacle plant. And there’s no way I’m letting you hold that over my head.”

The tentacle plant? Right. He remembered how it had bound up Zarga in its tendrils, caressing her exposed body, thrusting a tendril in and out-

Simon felt his pants tighten. He quickly tried to turn his thoughts elsewhere, but nothing escaped from the gazer’s all-seeing eye. “ _Hah_. Your mouth always says no, but the little man down here always seems to rise to the occasion.” She looked up at him with a smug smile, but her smile quickly vanished as his she struggled to remove the armor over his waist. “C’mon, how do you get this thing off!?” she growled. “I mean I can suck you through your pants if I have to, but I have to get this stupid thing outta the way first…”

Simon grabbed Zarga’s wrists, stopping her. “Are… you’re sure about this?”

The gazer looked up at him, annoyed. “Don’t look at me like that. Makes me remember just how sad and boring the average Alban’s love life is.”

Simon didn’t reply. In silence, he began to remove the armor pieces around his waist and legs, so Zarga had unrestricted access. He was surprised she hadn’t commanded him to take his armor off, but, he supposed he should be thankful she was at least _pretending_ he had a say in the matter.

As soon as the armor was off, Zarga’s hands shot to the hem of Simon’s trousers and pulled them down. He shivered slightly from the sudden rush of cold air that washed over his erection.  Simon turned his gaze away, not wanting to see it, or the gazer’s hungry expression. “You know…” she began. “I just realized I’ve never gotten a good look at your little guy until now.” She licked her lips, though he didn’t see it. “ _Hope it tastes as good as it looks._ ”

Simon had to bring up his hands and cover his mouth to keep himself from crying out in surprise as an intense warmth smothered the tip of his member. He felt the warmth slowly work its way down his shaft- she moaned, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure up his spine and making his knees shake. He closed his eyes, not daring to look, but that served only to make the sensation even more intense. So, he looked.

Zarga had his member in her mouth, slowly inching her way forward to the base. He thought that actually seeing the act would calm him. It didn’t. His erection throbbed just from the sight, eliciting a small gasp from the gazer. He couldn’t believe that anyone, even a monster, could do something so dirty. And yet… he couldn’t help but feel… _excited_.

She pulled all the way back. “Oh, right. Velvet didn’t do this for you yet, did she?” She grinned- he shivered from seeing all the sharp teeth she displayed, realizing just how close to them a very sensitive part of his anatomy had been. “Trust me, you’re gonna love this.”

She opened her mouth, but rather than taking in the shaft again, she slowly, softly began to lick around his tip. He gasped, as tiny jolts of pleasure surged from the tip, down his member and up his spine. He couldn’t believe something so small could feel so good. But it wasn’t enough. He reached out, to put his hands on her head-

Zarga pulled back, and her eyes flashed. “Ah- hands to yourself.” His hands instantly returned to his sides as if pulled into place by ropes.

Of course. Even with her literally on her knees in front of him, she made sure to establish that _she_ was the one in control. He let out a disappointed sigh.

“What’sh wrong?” the gazer asked in a familiar mocking tone, her words slightly slurred. “Didja wanna ram yer cock down my throat until ya burst?”

Simon bit his lip. He did. By Gabriel he wanted nothing more than to grab Zarga’s head and thrust into her mouth until he came. But he wouldn’t say it. Not to give the gazer the satisfaction of knowing she beat him, but because he couldn’t believe he could want something so… filthy.

She kept licking. Every stroke of her tongue made the burning in his cock flare up, but somehow, it was never enough to push him over the edge. “C’mon, tell me. I can do thish all day, ya know.”

Simon refused to answer.

“Sho that’sh how it’sh gonna be, huh?” Her tongue swirled underneath the skin at the tip of his cock. His hips bucked, and he cried out. His legs were trembling so much, he was sure they would’ve given out- only Zarga pressing his hips against the wall kept him on his feet. The heat in his member flared, and he thought for sure he would come…

But right before he could get that release, Zarga pulled back. He tried to move his hips, but the gazer looked up at him, eye aglow, and said, “Nope, you stay right there.” His body locked up, and all he could do was stand with his back against the wall, panting, that pleasant burning sensation rapidly fading away.

“I’ll make this easy for you,” Zarga said, running her finger along the underside of his member. “You don’t even have to repeat back what I said. Just say ‘yes,’ or ‘no.’ Easy, right?” She positioned herself so the tip of his penis rested on her lips. “Now, do you want me to suck your hot, _thick_ cock, and drink every last drop of your semen?”

As a Purifier, Simon had been trained to resist seduction techniques from monsters. He… wasn’t the best at it, to be sure, but his instructors were willing to overlook it due to his blade skills. Besides, they argued, the most interaction he would ideally have with monsters was killing them. Any attempt at seduction would be hastily constructed and easily resisted. Still, though he never used them, Simon took pride in his ability to resist the temptations monsters offered.

But in that moment, the resolve built up by years of training shattered like glass. And he whispered, “ _…yes._ ”

Zarga kissed the tip of his member. “ _Good boy_ ,” she said gently. “Just let me know when you’re about to come, alright?” And she took Simon’s cock in her mouth.

Simon cried out, unable to suppress the sound with his body paralyzed. The sensation as the gazer bobbed her mouth up and down his length was completely different from her… _pussy_. But it was no less wonderful, and in moments, the heat and pressure returned. “Z… Zarga…” he gasped. “I’m… getting close.”

The gazer hummed, and bobbed her head even faster, moaning and slurping and sucking noisily. It was too much for him. He didn’t even try to hold it in. All the pressure was released, like a valve being released, and he felt spurt after spurt of heat flow down his member. “ _Mmm!_ ” Zarga’s eye widened in surprise, but she swallowed each shot with ease. She gave one last, hard suck to pull out any traces left behind, until finally letting it go with a noisy _pop._ He shivered from the cold, as Zarga wiped her mouth. “Mmmm… you might not be the longest-lasting, or have the biggest, but your stuff tastes amazing.” She smiled up at him, a smug smile that only monsters seemed to be capable of. “Plus, it’s cute how you treat every time like it’s your first.”

Simon looked down at Zarga, breathing hard, still frozen. “…I didn’t know monsters used their mouths like that. I mean, I’ve heard rumors, but I thought people just made it up…”

Zarga grinned. “Monsters can use more than just their mouths, you know. Blowjobs, anal, tit fucking, thighjobs… some even use their armpits or their feet. _Nothing_ is off-limits.” Zarga’s grin widened. “Bet the girl’s back in Alba wouldn’t do _that_.”

Then, to Simon’s shock, she pulled his pants back up, and snapped her fingers, unfreezing him. “Alright. Shall we get going?”

“Wh- that’s it?” Simon was stunned, not just by the abrupt end, but also by the words that had come out of his own mouth.

“Well, I needed a little something to keep my strength up. But, if you _really_ wanna keep going…” She leaned in, and gently kissed the tip of his erection through the fabric. “…then after we visit the palace, we can book a room at a nice quiet inn, and have the whole night to ourselves…”

That… did actually sound… no. No, he was letting himself get swept up in her pace again. Simon shook his head, as if trying to shake out the lustful thoughts within. They had a job to do. “Let’s just concentrate on meeting up with that lich,” he said firmly.

Zarga let out a disappointed sigh and stood. “Oh, you’re no fun,” she said. “One day you’re gonna get all old and…” She trailed off, and looked to him with a confused expression. “Hold on. Can you _get_ old now?”

That… was a good question. Simon knew he couldn’t be killed, and he didn’t need to eat or sleep, but other than that, he hadn’t put much thought into his new “condition.” Did he still age? Could he get sick? If he was wounded but not killed, would he heal? “All the more reason for us to see that mage,” he replied. “Even if she doesn’t know anything about the Sacred Flame, maybe she can tell us about the bond between me and Cassandra.” Simon quickly put his armor back on. “Let’s get going.” And with that, he left the alley.

Zarga watched Simon go, mumbling to herself, “ _Damn. Thought I finally hooked him,_ ” before following after him.

* * *

 

The walk to the palace proved a short one. Simon and Zarga kept to the less-populated side streets, but not just to avoid triggering any monster’s feral instincts. The scent of fresh semen, Simon learned, would draw the attention of any particularly amorous or desperate monsters, who would doubtlessly try to steal him away. And the last thing he and Zarga wanted was to get in trouble with the authorities before they could meet with Lady Elisanne.

Simon had to admit, he was feeling very far out of his element. The few times he wasn’t in the field as a Purifier, he was training in the Inquisition Headquarters. But, there were times when he had to meet with royalty or nobles. They were all the same, from the king to the lowest baron; proud, snooty, hiding themselves behind walls and guards as though poverty was a disease that could be caught. Simon hadn’t met _many_ nobles, but he met enough to know he didn’t like them. And, he expected much of the same from this Elisanne.

But Simon would be surprised when he and Zarga reached the palace. Unlike the grand manors in Solas, there was no wall or gate separating the palace from the rest of the city. In fact, Ikana’s main thoroughfare ended right in front of a pair of incredibly tall doors of dark wood and black iron- the front door, Simon presumed. There weren’t even any guards- just two empty suits of dark, heavy-looking suits of armor standing at each side of the doors. But then Simon saw one of the suits shift their feet. He jumped, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest, eliciting a row of laughter from Zarga. “What?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Never seen a living armor before?”

Simon, in truth, had not. Living armors were one of many species he had studied, but never encountered in the field. Mostly, he remembered the debate about their origins- whether they were once ordinary suits of armor saturated with demonic energy until they were finally given life; or if they had once been human women trapped in suits of cursed armor, their bodies withering away until nothing remained, their souls still trapped inside.

Without any hesitation, Zarga marched up to the door. “Hey,” she said cheerfully. “We’re here to see Lady Elisanne. Can we go inside?”

For a moment, the armor suits looked at one another. In a hollow, tinny voice that echoed within her armor, the guard on the left said, “Apologies, but Lady Elisanne isn’t accepting visitors today. Please come back another time.”

Simon blinked. The guard had been perfectly cordial- she even said please. Any private guard in Solas would’ve run off any would-be visitors with their weapons.

But before Simon could gawk at any more displays of common courtesy, a black cloud appeared between in front of Zarga, swirling in the air. The guards stepped forward, swords ready, as the cloud gradually took on Velvet's form. “I’m sorry to surprise you,” she said, bowing. “I am Lilim Velvet, thirteenth daughter of the Overlord. I need to speak with Lady Elisanne, but can’t meet with her in person. These people here are representatives I sent to Ikana on my behalf.”

The armor suits looked at one another again, and lowered their swords. “Alright,” the guard on the right said. “But remember, you’re a guest in Lady Elisanne’s home, even if you are the Overlord’s daughter.”

Velvet’s shade smiled, said “Thank you,” and immediately stepped between the guards, phasing through the door. Zarga however, had to push it open like a normal person.

The inside of the palace was equally as grand as the exterior, but nowhere near as dark. Tapestries and grand paintings depicting great battles seemed to hang on every wall. Torches set at regular intervals cast their light in the great halls, reaching all the way up to the ribbed, vaulted ceiling some fifteen feet overhead. Velvet’s shade looked around. “Now, if I remember correctly, Elisanne’s throne room should be… this way.” She began floating down the hall, turning left at the first

As he and Zarga followed Velvet, Simon asked, “They let you in, just like that?”

Zara gave Simon a look. “Hello? Lady Velvet’s a lilim, daughter of the Overlord? Y’know, _ruler of all monsterkind?_ Not exactly the kind of person you say ‘no’ to.”

“My name doesn’t carry as much weight as it used to,” Velvet began, “but it still opens up the occasional door here and there.”

Velvet finally came to a stop in front of a tall wooden door of dark wood. There seemed to be some kind of commotion on the other side. Not from a fight or argument, but something else. Something Simon felt they shouldn’t interrupt. “Um… it sounds like they’re busy,” he said. “Should we come back?”

“Nah, it’s cool. They could probably use a break anyway,” Zarga replied, as if she already knew what was happening inside the room, and pushed the doors open.

The hall on the other side of the door was vast, like the hall in Velvet’s castle. Unlike the lilim’s bare castle, however, this hall was richly decorated with rugs and tapestries of deep purple and gold. There were guards posted here as well- living armors just like at the front door, four in total, standing in front of a raised platform with an ornate gold-and-purple throne. But the guards weren’t the only people in the room. Next to the throne stood a pale woman in a frayed purple cloak, her hood pulled up, and a strange artifice on her back. Simon turned his gaze away from her- the cloak was the woman’s only clothing, her naked body fully on display. He looked for something, _anything_ else to look at… and that was when he noticed… _them_.

Another woman, pale as the moon with light blonde hair, on her hands and knees, being fucked from behind by a young blonde man in the middle of the room.

“Ohh… _ohh! Ohhhhh yesssssss!_ ” She arched her back, her cries echoing in the room as her partner thrust into her one final time. Simon looked on his shock, raising up his hands, unsure whether to cover his mouth or his eyes. Zarga and Velvet, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered.

The couple took no notice of the intruders, as the woman twisted, and pulled her partner into a deep kiss, their hips still rolling together. Simon couldn’t help but feel a small twitch of jealousy in his stomach as he watched the couple kiss. Velvet was miles and miles away, and Zarga absolutely refused to kiss him, at least on the lips.

“Lady Elisanne…” the naked girl mumbled.

The couple finally broke their kiss, the irritation apparent in the woman’s face. “Yes, yes, I’ll be with them in a moment.” The blonde woman stood, slowly lowered her dress, and pulled the straps over her shoulders to cover her chest. “I thought I told the guards that I was not to be interrupted today.” As the young man hastily dressed himself, the woman climbed the steps leading up to the throne, and seated herself. The young man hastened to her side, now clad in a light suit of silver armor, a red hood on his shoulders.

“Now then,” the pale woman began, “how exactly can I help you strangers?”

The three approached the platform. Zarga knelt. Simon kneeled as well, but Velvet remained standing. “You and I have met before, Lady Elisanne,” the lilim replied. “I am Lilim Velvet, thirteenth daughter of the Overlord. I have come to humbly request the assistance of your court mage.”

Elisanne put a hand on her chin, as if thinking. “Hmm… _denied._ ”

“What!?” Zarga shouted, climbing back onto her feet.

Velvet maintained her composure, but it was clear from her expression that she hadn't expected to be denied. “Lady Elisanne, your court mage may provide information vital to conquering the Kingdom of Alba. All we ask is for a short audience.”

Elisanne replied coldly, “And I remember full well what your last ‘short audience’ regarding Alba brought to Ikana.” She leaned forward in her throne. “Six thousand soldiers returned to their graves- may the ground lay lightly upon them. Another six thousand so badly damaged they will never again live ordinary lives. Two thousand more missing, and to this day _still_ unaccounted for. And for what, exactly?” Her eyes narrowed, and she gripped the rests of her throne tightly. “This discussion is over. Now leave. Your status is the only thing stopping me from throwing you out by your heels.”

The woman’s words made something in Simon’s mind stir. “Wait,” he said. “Are you talking about the Black Legion?” He recalled learning about an invasion attempt mounted by a legion of undead twenty thousand strong. The invasion failed, of course, as the undead were paralyzed as soon as they entered the Barrier, making them easy targets for Alba’s soldiers. Simon hadn’t participated in the battle, however; it had taken place sixty years before he was born.

Elisanne looked to Simon, and then… laughed. “The Black Legion? Is _that_ what you call it? Are you all truly so unimaginative?” She abruptly stopped laughing, and leaned forward, giving Simon a hard glare. “You’re quite bold to come here, Alban. Even from here, I can smell the blood of all my sisters on you.”

Velvet’s shade stepped between Simon and Elisanne. “This man has pledged himself to my service. He challenged me to a duel, and lost.”

“It’s true,” Zarga added. “Did the deed and everything.”

The woman sat stiffly in her throne for a few moments, still glaring, before finally leaning back. “I must say, Velvet, if this boy is supposed to be some kind of ‘secret weapon,’ then I can’t say I’m impressed.”

Throughout the exchange, the girl wearing nothing but a cloak looked at the three silently. But Simon quickly realized her gaze was not fixed on Velvet, but… _him_. She turned, approaching Elisanne’s throne, and said faintly, “My lady.” She leaned in toward Elisanne, and whispered something to her.

The woman blinked, before looking at Simon, the anger in her eyes abating. “…It seems you have piqued the interest of my court mage, young man,” she said. “She wishes to examine you.”

Velvet perked up. “Then-”

Elisanne quickly cut her off: “Do bear in mind that I have not agreed to help you, Velvet. Cleo has simply taken interest in your companion. Nothing more.” She stood. “But before that, I want to test you.”

“A test?” Simon asked. “Why?”

Elisanne narrows her eyes at Simon. “I don’t need to answer that question.” She then looked to the young man at her side. “Euden, if you would.”

The young man who had mounted Elisanne stepped down from the raised platform. He appeared young- roughly Simon’s age when he first enlisted- but as an undead, he was doubtlessly much older than his appearance suggested.

“You know, I fought plenty of Alban soldiers in the invasion,” he said. “I hope their standards went up over the last sixty years.”

Simon didn’t respond to the insult. Rather, he was hung up on the young man’s name. _Euden… Euden…_ he knew he’d heard the name before, but he couldn’t place it. “That’s a strange name you have,” he said.

Euden laughed. “Trust me. If you knew what it meant, you would’ve turned and ran the moment you heard it.”

The young man disappeared in the blink of an eye. He then reappeared right in front of Simon, sword in hand, and slashed him across the chest.


	8. The Lich

**7: The Lich**

 

Sparks flew from the impact. Simon staggered back from the blow. He reached up, touching the deep gouge in his armor…

…but there was no blood. The cut was deep- deep enough to damage the armor’s already-compromised hermetic seal, but not deep enough to wound. Simon could only stand in stunned silence. He hadn’t even seen the young man draw his sword.

With a smirk, Euden sheathed his sword. “That should be good enough.” He turned his back to Simon, and began walking back to the throne.

A hot fire flared up in Simon’s chest as he watched the young man walk away. “Turning your back on an enemy?” he called. “You shouldn’t underestimate your opponent like that.”

Euden stopped, and glanced back. “If my blade cut just a few inches deeper, you’d be dead now. You couldn’t even draw your sword to protect yourself.” He looked away. “I don’t think I underestimated you at all.”

In seconds, Simon unsheathed his sword. “ _I’m gonna make you wish you’d killed me._ ”

The living armors stepped forward, readying their weapons. But it wasn’t them, or Euden, or Elisanne that spoke. “Simon,” Velvet said. “That’s enough.”

Simon looked back, furious. Velvet’s shade stood with her arm outstretched, her hand glowing in an eerie red light. Zarga stood next to her, eyes glowing, ready to restrain him at a moment’s notice. His eyes darted back to Euden. There were about twelve steps between them- he could get at least one good swing on the prince before the guards reached him. He had no compunctions about attacking an enemy from behind. One of the first lessons he’d learned as a Purifier was to abandon any notions of honor or fairness when fighting monsters- they would use any underhanded tactic they could to gain the upper hand, so it was expected that they should do the same. But clearly, Velvet didn’t share that sentiment. So it was with the utmost reluctance that Simon returned his blade to its sheath.

“I must admit, Velvet, I wasn’t expecting much from this meeting, but you _still_ managed to disappoint me,” Elisanne said, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “And, might I suggest keeping your servants on a _much_ shorter leash.”

Velvet said nothing, her shade hanging its head. But Zarga was perfectly willing to speak up in her place: “How dare you!” she snapped, glaring. “Lady Velvet is a lilim, and you _will_ show her respect!”

Elisanne leaned forward, looking at Zarga. “I’ll show her respect the day she does something _worthy_ of respect. But until that day comes…” The pale woman leaned back. “You and your associates are no longer welcome in my home, Velvet.”

The naked girl in the cloak looked to Elisanne. “My lady, what about-”

Elisanne cut her off: “Forget the boy. He has nothing worthwhile to teach you.”

“But-”

Elisanne’s gaze snapped to the girl, a hard glare on her face. “ _Enough_ , Cleo. I forbid you from having any contact with the Alban.” She turned her attention back to the three. “I believe I made myself rather clear.”

Elisanne’s guards escorted Simon, Zarga, and Velvet out of the palace, firmly slamming the large wooden doors shut behind them. Zarga looked back at the palace- she was frowning, but didn’t seem overly upset. “Well… can’t say I wasn’t expecting that,” she said.

“I suppose coming here was a mistake after all,” Velvet replied bitterly. “I should have known Elisanne would still be upset about the invasion.” The lilim hung her head again. “And she has every right to be.”

Simon looked to the two monsters. “So, that’s it? We’re running away with our tails between our legs?” he asked.

Both Zarga and Velvet looked at him, but didn’t say anything at first. Slowly, Velvet replied, “If Lady Elisanne is unwilling to help us, then we’ll simply find someone else who _is_.”

Simon glared. “You might be willing to let this go, but I’m not. I’m going back in there.” He began to stride toward the palace doors…

Until all at once, an invisible force pulled on him, weighing him down and stopping him in his tracks. He strained, but his body refused to move. “ _No_. You’re not,” Velvet said firmly.

He looked back. “Let me go, Velvet.”

Velvet didn’t. In fact, she clenched her hand into a fist, and the force holding him gripped even tighter. “Your mission, as I recall, is to find an expert who can help us discover how to extinguish the Sacred Flame. I don’t remember giving you permission to pursue personal vendettas for the sake of avenging your wounded pride.”

“ _This isn’t about-_ ” But Simon stopped himself.

What he was about to say was a complete lie- it was _absolutely_ about his pride. He didn’t care that he had been defeated- since his “rebirth,” he had lost more battles than he’d won. But in those cases, he could at least say he’d died fighting, or managed to escape from an overwhelmingly superior opponent, as he had in his duel against Velvet.

But that had not happened with Euden. He delivered a single blow- one that hadn’t even drawn blood- and declared the battle over. The way that prince had turned his back on him, that damnable smirk… the prince may not have wounded him, but his actions cut deeper than any sword could ever hope to. It was the first time since joining the Purifiers that Simon had felt so powerless.

“You understand why I’m doing this, don’t you?” Velvet asked, her voice calmer, but still firm. “I may be a lilim, but my influence, my _power_ has limits. And there are things in this world that are older, and wiser, and _stronger_ than I am. As your master, it’s my job to protect you from those things. That’s what I’m trying to do. Protect you. You can see that, can’t you?”

Simon said nothing. But, he understood. It didn’t soften the blow to his pride, but… he understood.

So, rather than fight, he asked, “What’s our next destination?”

Velvet finally released him, and looked to something only she could see. “…Mzindyne. A gremlin settlement just inside the Ostian border. There should be no shortage of experts there.”

He turned his back to the palace, striding past Velvet and Zarga. “Alright. Let’s go. There’s nothing else here for us.”

Zarga looked at him, surprised. “Never thought you’d be the type to sulk, Simon,” she said. “You think you know someone…”

Simon glanced at the gazer, but held his tongue. He _did_ have some words for her, but he doubted Velvet would appreciate seeing her servants fight in front of her. Instead, he replied stiffly, “It’s like Velvet said: if Elisanne won’t help us, then we have to find someone who will.” He began to walk away.

“Simon, that’s-” But Zarga suddenly stopped speaking. “Wait. What is that?”

Simon turned back. “What’s wrong?”

Zarga hurried over to Simon. “N-No, turn around again. There’s something on your back.” The gazer quickly circled around behind Simon; he looked back, seeing her many eyes were focused on something. After squinting, she said, “Someone wrote something here.”

“What does it say?” Velvet asked.

“Eh, um…” the gazer stammered.

“Well?” Simon insisted.

Zarga continued to hesitate, but finally replied, “I… well, there’s _something_ here, but it doesn’t make any sense. It’s just a bunch of gibberish.”

“Let me see.” Simon removed the cuirass on his chest, and looked at the back. But there was no writing anywhere on the metal surface. “…there’s nothing here.”

“It’s right _here_ ,” Zarga said, pointing to a small black line on the left side, right over where his shoulder blade would be. To Simon, it looked just like a scratch in the white paint, no matter how closely he looked. It wasn’t until he was almost pressing his nose against the metal that he finally saw it. What Zarga said was true; the “scratch” was indeed a line of letters, but they were too fine for him to read.

“I see them,” Simon said.

“Told you,” the gazer replied, “But, like I just said, they don’t make any sense.”

“Well, standing around _here_ isn’t going to do us any good,” Velvet said. “Let’s find somewhere quiet where we can figure this out.”

* * *

 

The three ultimately settled in a small inn far from the main thoroughfare, free of any prying eyes or potential distractions. Once they settled at a table in the corner of the inn, Zarga set to work, using some parchment and a spare bit of charcoal to transcribe the message written on Simon’s armor. When she was done, Velvet and Simon looked over the note, and were left just as baffled as the gazer:

_l pxvw vshdn zlwk brx, uhjdugohvv ri zkdw pb odgb vdbv. zkhq wkh prrq lv dw lwv shdn, l zloo zdlw iru brx dw doehuld’v wrpe. frph dorqh. BE_

“What in the world does it mean?” Velvet asked.

“Are you sure you wrote it down correctly?” Simon asked Zarga.

The gazer huffed. “ _Of course_ I’m sure.”

Velvet leaned over the note, her shade being unable to touch it, and inspected it closely. “Could it be another language?”

Simon replied, “If it is, it’s not any language I’ve ever seen before…” pondering exactly how one would pronounce “vdbv.”

Zarga put a hand on her chin, deep in thought, before she picked up the piece of charcoal and began to write. “I think I’ve seen this before,” she said. “If we rearrange the letters like _this_ , then…” But it didn’t work. The block of letters Zarga wrote was just as incomprehensible as the original line. “Uh, or maybe not.”

For several minutes, the three sat at their table, unable to produce any answers. Until, from within Simon’s head, Cassandra spoke: _Simon, I think I know what this is._

“You do?” Simon asked out loud.

Cassandra explained. Once she had, everything fell into place. Simon had to admit, he was a bit embarrassed he hadn’t seen it for himself sooner. So, with her explanation, he picked up the charcoal, and began to write two lines of letters.

“Uh,” Zarga began. “What are you doing?”

“Cassandra figured it out,” he replied. “The two letters at the end are a key.” He looked up. “This message was written with a substitution cipher.”

“With a what?” Velvet asked.

“It’s a method of encrypting messages. Alba used to use it in military communications. Nowadays, we use more complex systems, since a cipher is too easy to break on its own.” As he spoke, Simon used the key he had made to translate the note. “But I think whoever left this note _wanted_ us to find it and translate it.”

Simon continued his work for about a minute. Slowly, but surely, a legible message became clear:

_I must speak with you, regardless of what My Lady says. When the moon is at its peak, I will wait for you at Alberia’s tomb. Come alone._

“Oh. Great. A riddle,” Zarga said flatly after reading the note, crossing her arms over her chest. “I _hate_ riddles.”

“‘My Lady?’” Velvet asked. “…of course. The lich.”

“Alberia?” Simon mumbled. Then a realization struck him. “Wait, that guy was…”

Euden. A prince of the ancient kingdom of Alberia. Though he was seventh in line for the throne, the people loved him above all the other heirs, for his kindness and selflessness in defending the kingdom from monsters. So beloved was he, in fact, that his elder siblings conspired against him, fearing he would challenge their claim to the throne. In their paranoia, they lured him into a trap one day, and murdered him.

That _should_ have been the end of Euden’s story. But it was not so. One of the Euden’s bodyguards, a woman named Elisanne, had fallen in love with him, and in her grief, she exhumed the prince’s body and brought it to a powerful necromancer, pleading for him to be brought back to life. The necromancer agreed, but the resurrection came at a terrible cost- Euden was revived, but as an incubus, and blinded by lust, he violated Elisanne, and turned her into a monster. Stripped of their humanity, the two hid beyond Alberia’s borders, attacking towns and villages, and converting their inhabitants into an army of the undead.

Many years later, Euden and Elisanne’s army had swelled, and they attacked Alberia’s capital directly. The Alberians fought valiantly, but as their enemy was someone who knew the city’s defenses inside and out, the city was quickly breached and overrun. Despite the intense fighting, the Alberians suffered only six casualties- the six heirs to the throne, who Euden personally put to the sword for their treachery. And so the kingdom of Alberia fell, brought down by the very person who had once given so much to protect it.

For the third time that day, Simon had been embarrassed- the fall of Alberia was one of the Chantry’s most well-known parables, a testament that convening with monsters- even with the best of intentions- would only ever bring ruin.

“I can’t believe it,” Simon muttered. “Then Euden and Elisanne must be…”

“That’s right,” Zarga replied. “They’re wights.”

Wights. The bodies of heroes brought back from the dead, but without any of the weaknesses of a typical zombie. They retained all the knowledge, skills, and mental faculties they had in life- if anything, most were even _stronger_ than they were as humans, without the burden of stamina to hold them back. Because of these qualities, the Inquisition named wights the most dangerous of all undead monster species. Only one had been encountered in Simon’s eight years as a Purifier, but a team of over thirty men had been sent to slay it. Only three men survived the hunt, two because they chose to run away rather than fight. Wights were enemies far beyond all but the most skilled monster hunters.

And Euden hadn’t been just _any_ hero- he was a prince, and a renowned monster hunter in life. Simon understood now how he could be so easily beaten.

“Let’s not get distracted,” Velvet then said. “We have another chance to meet Elisanne’s court mage. We shouldn’t waste it.”

Simon nodded. “Right.” After rereading the message, he said, “‘When the moon is at its peak’ is obviously midnight. But what I can’t figure out is the part about ‘Alberia’s tomb.’ Alberia is a kingdom, not a person.” Thinking back to the parable, he then asked, “Were Euden’s siblings buried somewhere near here?”

“No,” Velvet replied. “Euden had the bodies of his siblings burned, to ensure they couldn’t be resurrected.” She suddenly straightened up, her expression changing, as if she’d remembered something. “Of course! The Undercity!”

“Undercity?” Simon asked.

Velvet explained, “After Alberia fell, its capital was left in ruins. But rather than rebuild, Lord Euden and Lady Elisanne ordered that the old city be buried, and had a new city built on top of it.” The lilim’s shade leaned in. “That new city was Ikana, the city we’re in now. The ruins of the old capital are still buried somewhere beneath us. Access is _supposed_ to be restricted, but there’s still plenty of paths leading down there.”

“I see.” Simon stood up. “It looks like we have a where, and a when. So if it’s alright with you, Velvet, I’m going to go meet with the lich.”

Zarga quickly stood up as well. “Hold on. You’re going by yourself?”

“The message said to come alone,” Simon replied. “Plus, it’ll be easier to sneak in with fewer people.”

“What if something happens to you?” the gazer asked.

“It almost sounds like you’re worried about me, Zarga,” Simon replied, earning himself a hard glare from the gazer. “But I’ll be fine, even if I run into something I can’t handle. It’s not like death is much of an inconvenience for me.”

“It’s alright, Zarga,” Velvet said, looking to the gazer. “It would be best for Simon to meet her on his own, at least initially.” She looked back to the former captain. “We’ll wait here for your return. Let us know what you find. And, please be careful. Even if you can resurrect yourself, you shouldn’t be so cavalier about dying.”

* * *

 

The earth shook. Simon stopped, and looked around, feeling dust fall on him from above, but after a moment, everything was still once again. “The ground here is so unstable,” he said out loud. “I’m amazed there hadn’t been a collapse yet.”

Simon couldn’t say for sure how far beneath the earth he was, but looking at his surroundings, it was easy to see why this place was called the “Undercity.” The cavern he crept down was a narrow street, much like the ones in the city above; however, the white stonework of the surrounding buildings was abruptly cut off by a number of rough, solid slabs of black stone, about eight feet above the ground. He could hear strange groans and knocking sounds echo through the cavern- the sounds of the earth straining under great amounts of weight, if his old Inquisition instructors were to be believed. Even so, Simon kept his sword ready. Even if the Undercity wasn’t home to unknown monster species, there was still a risk of encountering patrolling guards.

Entering the Undercity proved much easier than expected. Simon had learned from Velvet that the six towers rising high above Ikana were once the watchtowers built along the walls of the original capital, and thus connected directly to the Undercity. However, the two towers he checked were under heavy guard (the other four were likely similarly guarded), and even with his experience, Simon wasn’t sure he could avoid being spotted. But, help came to Simon in an unexpected form.

As he watched the second tower, Cassandra left his body, and phased through the ground. She emerged a few moments later, saying there was a passage underneath the street. So after a bit of searching, Simon found an entrance to the sewers, covered by a metal grate, and climbed down. It was deserted, unsurprisingly- the smell was overpowering, but he tried his best to bear it. And so, with Cassandra’s guidance, Simon began his descent. The ghost couldn’t go far because of their bond, but he appreciated her help all the same, and before long, they came across the alien sight of streets and buildings buried under the earth.

Rubble blocked the road ahead, so Simon climbed through a window on a building nearby, and continued inward. “Do you still not sense anything?” he asked aloud.

Cassandra emerged. “Nothing on our elevation, at least. But-” She looked at a nearby wall- Simon knew she wasn’t looking at the wall, but something _beyond_ it. “Wait. There is _something_ here.”

“Guards?” he asked.

Cassandra shook her head. “I don’t think so. There’s only one, and they aren’t moving.” She pointed. “They’re about four hundred feet in that direction.”

“Then let's go see.” Simon slowly stalked down the buried city’s streets, cutting through buildings whenever the road was blocked, occasionally asking Cassandra if she could feel any other presences. But she never did after the first. Simon grew more and more concerned that the note had been a fake, until he stumbled across something unexpected.

The street ahead abruptly ended, but not because of rubble. It stopped at the base of a sturdy looking stone wall. The sort that would surround a castle keep. “This looks promising,” he said. “Let’s see if we can find a gate.”

He crept along the wall, until he found a gate- a stone arch blocked by a badly rusted portcullis. The metal bars gave way under a few strong kicks, and Simon stepped through the fresh hole, and into a large courtyard. The ground beneath Simon’s feet was covered in a black sludge, with a few barren, bone-white trees rising up through it like skeletal hands- this place must have been a garden of some sort, but years without sunlight had reduced it to its current state. At the far end, he could see a large stone tower (or part of one, at least)- its many doors and windows were covered with wooden boards and hastily erected brick walls, preventing entry.

Cassandra suddenly gagged. “Ugh. What is that smell?”

Simon sniffed the air. A foul odor was in the air, but it wasn’t the scent of rotting plants as he expected- it was an acrid odor that stung the inside of his nostrils, an odor he recognized. “Sulfur,” he said. “There must be an alchemy lab nearby.” Simon blinked, realizing the implication of what he said. “We must be close.”

He pressed on, trying to use his nose to guide him. As Simon tried to follow the scent, Cassandra asked, “You studied alchemy? But I thought only the Order of the Staff had the authority to conduct magical studies.”

Now that was a name Simon hadn’t heard in quite some time. Like the Purifiers, the Order of the Staff was a branch of the Inquisition, dedicated to studying the realm of magic- spells, artifacts, and potions all fell in their domain. Their ultimate goal was to create a new Sacred Flame, or at least, expand the current Flame’s barrier.

“It can be difficult to find supplies in the field,” Simon explained, “so all Purifiers are trained in basic potion-making. I found it interesting, so when I had spare time, I took extra lessons in it. That reminds me- I should shop around for some alchemy equipment when we get back to the surface…”

Simon followed the acrid scent to a small cabin in the courtyard. Unlike the rest of the city, there was evidence it was recently made- the wood used to build it showed no signs of rot, the architecture didn’t match with the other buildings he’d seen, and there was a small, but distinct path in the sludge leading to the cabin’s door. “Do you sense anyone inside?” he asked.

“No,” Cassandra replied. “Odd… I’m sure the presence I felt was in this area.”

Simon walked up to the cabin door. “Well, she’s expecting us. So I don’t think she’ll mind too much if we invite ourselves inside.” He pushed open the door.

Simon was at first surprised by how barren the cabin was- just a bed and a desk. But as he stepped inside, he realized while it was devoid of furniture, the cabin was far from empty. Bottles and phials of all sizes lined the walls, and littered the floor, some empty, some filled with dark liquids he couldn’t identify. The desk was covered in strange plants, and all manner of tools: alembics, retorts, a set of scales, a mortar and pestle, a small furnace, crucibles and calcinators, metal wire stands… practically everything a person could need to perform alchemy.

“Look,” Simon said, pointing to the furnace- behind the small grate, he could see a dim red glow. “The embers are still hot.”

A voice from behind suddenly said, “You’re here. Excellent.”

Simon whipped around to the doorway, heart racing and sword raised.

It was the grey-skinned woman with the cloak from Elisanne’s throne room. She didn’t flinch or stumble back from having a sword raised against her. She didn’t even blink, her face as calm and placid as a statue’s. Simon quickly averted his gaze as soon as he calmed himself; she was still very much naked under her cloak, and made no effort to cover herself. As he sheathed his sword, Simon said, “You were with Elisanne.”

“Indeed I was,” the woman replied. “I was worried my message would be too subtle, but Julianos has blessed you with uncommon wisdom, it seems.”

Simon didn’t ask who “Julianos” was. The mages of Alba were a cryptic and inscrutable sort, veiling their words behind allegory and mythic symbolism to keep their research secret; he assumed such was true for all mages. So, he simply asked, “Why did want to talk to _me?_ Velvet’s the one who wanted to meet you.”

The lich tilted her head slightly. “As I told My Lady, I sense irregularities in the interplay of forces within you. I wish to examine this in greater detail.”

 _Interplay of forces?_ Simon thought. He would admit, he was a poor student where magic was concerned, but the lich’s words didn’t match up with anything in his (admittedly limited) pool of knowledge. And, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t apprehensive about what this “examination” entailed. But, if he agreed, then perhaps she would be willing to examine the Sacred Flame’s Ember for them. As Velvet said, he shouldn't squander this second chance. “Alright,” he replied. “Just do whatever it is you need to do.” When the lich held up a hand, a light glowing in her palm, he quickly asked, “It… won’t hurt, will it?”

The lich replied in a calm tone, “I assure you, my examination will be minimally invasive,” and held out her hand toward Simon, bathing him in a yellow light. A tingling sensation crept beneath his skin where the light touched him. Simon shuddered, but the lich kept her word, as though it was strange, the sensation was not a painful one.

The lich circled around him, still shining her light on Simon. He stood, and tried not to stare at her. The lich was mumbling something to herself- most was too faint to be made out, but the snatches that he _did_ hear were completely incomprehensible: “…Anuic energies are unusually strong for a mortal… Shezarrine? …hmm, perhaps not. An errant Magna-Ge? But the flow of magicka is much too weak within him…”

Then all of a sudden, the lich said to him, “I sense the chains that bind you to the living world. You are undead, like this one, are you not?”

Simon spluttered. He hadn’t put a great deal of thought into his “condition,” but he supposed in a way, he _was_ undead. Technically speaking. “Um, I… I suppose I am.”

The lich reached out, and touched his face, pulling on his skin lightly. “You are remarkably well-preserved. Though they have rid themselves of all signs of rot, even Lady Elisanne and Master Euden retain a deathly pallor.” She rested her fingers on his neck, feeling his pulse. “But from a physiological standpoint, _you_ are indistinguishable from an ordinary human.”

“Well, I’m not a typical… _undead_.” It felt strange to say that. He knew it was true, but by not saying it out loud, by not admitting that he _wasn’t_ human anymore, Simon felt like he could hold onto some last vestige of his former life. “Cassandra?”

The ghost emerged from Simon’s body, and floated next to him. “Hello,” she began. “I’m Cassandra, and as you can see, I’m a ghost. After I died, I possessed Simon. That might be the reason-”

“ _No_ ,” the lich said firmly, sparing Cassandra only the briefest of glances. “Not her.”

Cassandra started, clearly taken aback. “What?”

But the lich ignored Cassandra, looking only to Simon. “Make no mistake- the tether that binds you to the Mundus does not come from _her_. You broke away from Arkay’s grip long ago. Before the two of you ever met, I suspect.” She held up her hand, and shined her light on Simon again. “…Dragonborn? Or perhaps another connection to Akatosh? It would explain the lack of decay…”

 _What is that supposed to mean?_ Simon thought. He didn’t understand the specific terms, but the message seemed clear enough: his bond with Cassandra wasn’t resurrecting him. But, if she wasn’t responsible, then who- or _what_ \- was? And could his connection to them be broken? As much as Simon wanted to ask these and other questions, he restrained himself. He had an objective to see to- once that was done, he could indulge his curiosities all he liked, but not a moment before.

After many more minutes, the light shining from the lich’s hand finally faded. “There’s much more information I would like to gather…” she said, “…but this will suffice for an initial assessment.”

“Great,” Simon replied. “Now I wanted-”

“There is, however, one experiment I wish to conduct,” she then added, before Simon could finish.

Simon tried his best to not show his exasperation. “What sort of experiment?”

The lich looked at Simon seriously. “Your energies are strongly in favor of Anu- something that is very rare among mortals. I wish to observe how this balance would be influenced when exposed to a strong external Padomaic source.”

“O…kay.” Simon assumed the lich was talking about exposing him to monster energies. Seemed rather pointless, as he was already monsterized, but he wasn’t about to argue with her.

“To that end, I wish to engage in the Dibellan arts with you,” she concluded.

“You want to _what?_ ” Up until this point, Simon had been able to follow the lich’s conversation, using context to decipher her more unorthodox terms. But now, he was completely lost.

The lich tilted her head. “Hm? Ah, of course. I keep forgetting that the people of this world have no awareness of the Divines.” She brought a hand up to her chin. “Em, how do I phrase this? I wish to… _what is the common term?_ M-Mount? Yes, that’s it.” She looked back to Simon. “I wish to mount you.”

“ _You want to **what?**_ ” This time, Simon understood exactly what the lich was referring to. But it was so unexpected that he refused to believe he’d heard her correctly.

The lich crossed her arms over her chest, her face finally betraying her first touch of emotion in the entire conversation- annoyance. “I fail to see where I may be unclear. I wish to mount you for the sake of furthering my research.”

Simon narrowed his eyes at the lich. “Explain to me how having sex with me helps your research.”

“As a participant, I can more easily measure the influence of my Padomaic energies on your Anuic energies.” The lich showed a little more emotion- exasperation, as if what she were saying was incredibly obvious. Then, she blinked. “Ah, yes, of course. You are husband to one of your companions. In that case, I can simply observe and take measurements as your partner mounts you. It will be less accurate than if I were to involve myself, but the data I acquire should be sufficient for an initial analysis.”

Simon really shouldn’t have been surprised by the lich’s forwardness, but even so, being propositioned by a virtual stranger was a bit too much for him to process. Not that the alternative was better- being… _intimate_ with Zarga or Velvet as this lich did heaven-only-knew-what was-

“I can do it,” Cassandra suddenly blurted out.

Simon could only stare at her, stunned. But before he could say anything, the lich replied, “Excellent. I cannot express just how important this experiment is for my theories.”

“Cassandra, _why_ are you agreeing to this?” Simon snapped. “And besides, aren’t you forgetting something?” For emphasis, he reached out and waved his arm through her body.

“That will not be a problem,” the lich replied. “Now- Cassandra, was it? Please come this way.” Cassandra floated to the lich. She held out her hand, and mumbled something as a familiar-looking mist flowed from the lich’s hand into Cassandra.

The changes were almost instantaneous- Cassandra’s body became less translucent, and the wispy tail below her waist morphed and shifted into a pair of ordinary human legs. She no longer floated above the ground, but stood on her newly formed legs. “There,” the lich said. “You should now have strength enough to interact with the material world freely. I don’t know how long you’ve been without a tangible body, so please avoid any sudden movements while…”

As the lich spoke, Cassandra looked down at herself. She touched her legs, shuffled her feet. With shaking, wobbling steps, she walked to one of the walls, and reached out for one of the many bottles resting on the shelves. Simon fully expected her hand to pass through it, but her fingers wrapped around the phial’s neck, and she lifted it up with ease. She turned the bottle over in her hands, as though she’d never seen one before. Though, Simon supposed he couldn’t fault her- it had been weeks since she’d been turned. He could only imagine how it must have felt to be trapped in a body that was completely unable to touch anything for so long.

Then, Cassandra turned to Simon.

The bottle slipped from her hands, and hit the floor with a hollow _thud_. Her breaths became ragged, her mouth turned in a wild smile, and there was a gleam in her eye that he’d never seen before. Hungry. _Predatory._ A cold chill gripped Simon’s heart, spite of himself, in spite of all his training, he began to back away. “C-Cassandra, why are you-”

He didn’t finish. Cassandra suddenly rushed toward him and shoved him against a wall, the bottles lining the cabin walls rattling from the impact. “Do be careful,” the lich said in a calm but slightly louder voice. “Some samples are quite volatile.”

But Cassandra wasn’t listening. She pinned Simon against the wall, looking at him through clouded eyes, her breath cold against his face. Her expression… it was so _unlike_ the calm, distant expression she usually wore. He again tried to shrink away, to no avail. He actually would have preferred her trying to kill him- _that_ , at least, he understood. He opened his mouth, another protest in his throat, when Cassandra pushed forward, firmly pressing her lips against his.

It was the total opposite of Velvet’s kiss. It was rough, and wild- he felt Cassandra force his mouth open and plunge her tongue in. He tried to push her back, to escape from the sensation, but his arms simply passed through her. However, _she_ could still touch him- when he tried to turn his face away, the ghost put her hands on both sides of his head, and held him firmly, keeping him from escaping. As her cold tongue danced around his own, Simon… couldn’t breathe, as if all the air was being pulled right out of his lungs. . But it felt so… _good_. Every sweep of her tongue made his mouth tingle, and a wonderful haze settled over Simon’s mind. His eyes rolled back, and he felt like… he was going… to faint…

Then Cassandra pulled away. And all of a sudden, it was as if a bucket of water had been poured over Simon. He couldn’t say anything- all he could do was stand with his back pressed against the wall, trying to catch his breath. She was looking at him in turn, breathing hard, as if the kiss had stolen away her breath as well.

“Hmm, as expected,” the lich murmured. “Overstimulation of the senses is common in ghosts when they first manifest a tangible form.”

“Don’t just stand there analyzzz _mmmppphh!_ ” Simon’s protests were interrupted by another forceful kiss. Unlike Zarga and Velvet, Cassandra didn’t struggle to remove his armor, simply reaching her hands through the metal to unlatch the mechanisms within. In less than a minute, each piece of Simon’s armor had noisily clattered to the floor, leaving him only in a black undersuit that clung to his body.

Cassandra broke away again. “I’ve been waiting for this,” she whispered. Simon tried to protest. She didn’t let him. She grabbed him, and lifted him with ease, before dropping him onto the bed. Before he could rise, she laid herself on top of him, and grabbed his wrists, holding him down.

“I can’t even begin to describe how frustrating it was, watching that gazer hog you to herself, listening to her taunting me. Well I’m not sitting on the sidelines anymore. I’m taking what’s mine. And she can’t do a damn thing to stop me now.”


	9. The Trial

**8: The Trial**

 

Simon strained, trying to push the ghost off of him, to no avail. Her behavior had shifted so abruptly… had the lich done something to her? Yes, of course. The lich _had_ to be responsible. Cassandra would never act like this. “Cassandra, listen to yourself,” Simon pleaded. “This isn’t like you at all. That lich… she did something to you. You have to snap out of it!”

“I assure you,” the lich said, “I have not manipulated your partner’s faculties in any way. Everything she is doing now, she does of her own free will.”

Cassandra smiled a dreamy smile, before planting a quick peck on his lips. “It’s true. All I wanted was to touch you, the way Velvet and Zarga did. And now, I can.”

Simon’s mind reeled. She… _wanted_ this? She _wanted_ to touch him? The question left his mouth before he realized he said it. “…but, why?” He knew the answer, of course. It was just the nature of monsters. She was simply imprinting on him after binding herself to him. She wanted him only because-

Cassandra asked in reply, “Isn’t it normal to want to do this with someone you love?”

His brain stopped. Love. She… she didn’t. She _couldn’t_. Monsters… didn’t _love_ -

“That praetor, Felix,” she said. “He would go on and on about you, when I first met him. And the more I heard, the more I decided I wanted to meet you. I was surprised when we met, I’ll admit… but I _wasn’t_ disappointed.” She touched his face gently. “I wouldn’t say it was ‘love at first sight.’ But, you were the kind of person I would’ve _liked_ to fall in love with.”

Simon’s vision… began to blur. No. _No_ , this… this wasn’t… _couldn’t_ be happening. Why? Why was this happening to him? _How_ could it have happened? He wanted to hide his face, but his hands were still pinned, leaving his shame on full display.

Then, the ghost slid her arms across Simon’s back, embracing him tightly. Surprised, Simon tried to squirm out of her grip… but stopped. Something about the feeling of her arms around him quelled the brewing storm inside of him. He reached out- to his shock, his arms didn’t pass through Cassandra, but slid across her body. Simon held the ghost tightly as she laid on top of him- he couldn’t say for how long. But as he held her, a strange feeling filled his chest. If there was a word for this feeling, Simon didn’t know it- all he knew was that it was good, and that he didn’t want it to end.

“I’m confusing you, aren’t I?” Cassandra whispered into his ear. “Just forget what I said for now. All you need to know is that right now, I want you. You and no one else.” She pulled back for just a moment, to look into his eyes, before leaning in for another kiss.

It was… _gentler_ than her first. But still much more intense than the kisses Velvet had given him. He tried to suppress it, but a small moan escaped from his throat, as he tried to match the movements of Cassandra’s tongue. He lifted up his hands, but stopped himself, his hands hovering just above her waist. He… wanted to touch her more. But he was afraid. Afraid that if he moved, that she would stop him, the way Zarga always did.

Cassandra must have noticed Simon’s dilemma, because she pulled away, and leaned back, straddling him. “Please. Don’t be shy, Simon. You can touch me. I'm not like Zarga.” She grabbed his wrists, and guided his hands over her breasts. Like Velvet, she wasn’t the largest, but being able to touch her freely… his hands tingled, and he couldn’t help but shake in excitement.

She pulled her hands away, resting them behind her head and leaving a full, unobstructed view of her body. He let his hands roam all over her body, everywhere he could reach- they slid to her back, her waist, her rear, her thighs… even through the fabric of her uniform, he could feel how soft she was. He froze at her every gasp and shuddering breath, but she never told him to stop, or pulled his hands away.

“Simon?” she asked. “Could you give me just a moment?”

When Simon had pulled his hands away, Cassandra ran her finger down the front of her jacket- it fell open, as if cut by a blade, before disappearing altogether. She did the same to her trousers, and they too fell open before vanishing, leaving Cassandra completely naked before him. He didn’t ask permission- his hands shot back up, and he felt her bare skin freely. She was so… _soft_. He imagined that this must be what fine silks felt like. But Cassandra didn’t sit passively. She moaned, she arched her back, she grabbed his wrists and pushed his hands against her, making him touch her more roughly. Just like Velvet had. And just like Velvet, he was sure she was just putting on an act, to try-

“I’m not faking it,” she suddenly said.

He froze. “W-What? How did-”

She tapped his forehead with her finger. “We’re connected, remember? I can see what you’re thinking. And trust me, your hands feel amazing.” A sly grin crept across her face. “But, if you don’t believe me…”

She didn’t wait for a reply. Cassandra slipped her hands under Simon’s shirt, and ran them across his skin. He shuddered- it was as if her hands were electrified, leaving only numbness in their wake. It was so incredibly embarrassing, but… it felt _good_. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more- how good simple touches could feel, or that Cassandra had been right.

It wasn’t long before Cassandra’s hands began to creep lower and lower, before settling on the hem of his trousers. “Alright. I think that’s enough foreplay. We shouldn’t keep Velvet waiting.” She pulled down his pants, letting his erection spring out freely. She stared, transfixed, mouth agape, before shaking her head and positioning herself above it. She reached down, and grabbed his member, placing it right under her entrance, then dropped down, sinking until their hips met completely.

“ _Haaah!_ ” Simon cried out in spite of himself. Zarga usually worked her way down slowly, so being engulfed all at once was…

“Nngggh…” She winced slightly, and let out a long breath. “Just… leave everything to me, alright?” Then, she put her hands on his shoulders, and slowly, slowly, began moving her hips.

When Zarga… _used_ him, she used her gaze to paralyze him, so he could look only at her face, at her smug expression. So being able to look freely was quite a change. It was mesmerizing. He knew a woman’s body could take in his length, but to actually see it for himself…

He couldn’t help himself- he reached up, wrapping his arms around her back, and pulled her down into a kiss. She accepted his kiss, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him in a tight embrace, with no space between them. It felt… wonderful. _Right_. As if… _this_ was how things were meant to be. But then, she pulled back. His arms passed through her when he tried to grab her, and when he sat up, she pushed him back down, resting her hands on his chest. “It’s okay,” she said. “Just lay back and enjoy yourself.”

Her slow grind began to speed up. The bed creaked loudly as Cassandra’s hips met his more and more forcefully, until she was pounding him into the mattress. All that time, the pressure was building. Simon’s breath shortened, and his body tensed as he prepared for all the tension to be released…

But then, she slammed her hips down, and stopped. The pressure that had built up began to ebb away. He reached up, trying to grab her hips, but she grabbed his wrists and pinned him down until the sensation was almost completely gone. Then, she began to move her hips. Again, she started slowly, gradually speeding up until her hips were pounding against him mercilessly, and he thought that at any moment, he would cum… until she abruptly stopped with a final slam of her hips, and waited for the pressure in his member to die away.

“Hold it in for me, Simon,” she said. “You can do it.”

He tried. He really did, spurred on by her kind words. But his resolve was broken before the third round had even finished. “Cass… an… dra…” he moaned. He was so close. Every time, she brought him to the edge, but before he could cross that threshold, she would stop.

She stopped. “Mmmm… alright. We’re not here to have fun. And it’s not fair to push you so hard.” She seemed… disappointed, judging from her frown. She noticed Simon noticing and quickly added, “Oh, I’m not upset! I… W-We can take our time later. Now, you just leave it to me.”

Cassandra began moving her hips again, moving faster and faster. He thought for sure that it would be just another cruel trick, that she would wait until he couldn’t bear it any more, and then stop, and repeat it all over again.  But she didn’t. She moved faster and faster, and when he felt the pressure come to a head, she pressed on, slamming her hips against him with reckless abandon. The pressure built quickly… too quickly. “Cassandra, slow down! I wan _nnnnahhh! Ahhh!_ ” Several hot bursts welled up, and spurted from his member. But Cassandra didn't stop. She kept smashing her hips against his even as he came, drawing out the waves of pleasure that surged through his whole body. It wasn’t until spots were dancing across Simon’s vision that Cassandra finally relented.

Simon was quickly spent after only a few spurts. But Cassandra wasn’t entirely finished. She rolled her hips roughly against his, as is trying to wring out every last drop of semen. “Mmmm…” She looked down at him with a very satisfied smile on her face. Simon could only lay under Cassandra, limp, feeling a deep exhaustion he hadn’t felt for a very long time. He tried to sit up, but his body refused to listen.

After taking a few breaths, Cassandra looked over and asked, “How was that?”

Simon looked over. It was then that he remembered he and Cassandra weren’t alone. The lich was there as well, sitting, writing something in a thick ledger bound in leather. “It’s a start…” the lich began. “But, I need a bit more for a proper analysis.”

Normally, Simon would have been upset to hear that. But at the moment, he didn’t mind that so much. In fact, he felt a surge of energy, and snapped out of his stupor. He wanted… to keep going.

Cassandra then looked down at Simon. “Simon?” she asked. “Do you… want to try something different?”

“Different… how?” he asked.

“Let me show you.” Cassandra pulled Simon up, so they were both on their knees. She turned her back to him, and got down on her hands and knees. She pressed her rear against him, reaching between her legs with a free hand- he shuddered as Cassandra slid his cock back inside her.  “Okay. Now… grab my arms.”

“Alright…” he replied. He grabbed one wrist, then the other.

“Now pull my arms, and thrust your hips at the same time.”

He withdrew, slightly, afraid he would pull out of Cassandra entirely, before plunging back in, pulling on her arms at the same time.

“ _Nnaahhh!_ ” Cassandra’s back arched- her arms phased out of Simon’s grasp, and she fell onto the bed.

“Cassandra!” Simon quickly leaned over her. “I didn’t… hurt you, did I?”

“N-No, I…” she stammered. “It felt… _good_. Better than I expected it to. Sorry.” She drew herself up. “Okay. I’m ready for it this time. Go ahead and grab my arms again.” Simon did as Cassandra asked. “Whenever you’re ready.”

He thrust into her again, and she cried out… but she didn’t slip from his grasp. “ _Aaaahh! Ohhhh…_ ” He waited a moment. Cassandra glanced back, giving a small nod, and he began to thrust his hips.

It felt… weird, both moving on his own, and not seeing Cassandra’s face. But judging from the sounds she made, she seemed to be enjoying herself: “Ah… aahhh… nnnhh… oh, yeah… nnnh, ahhhh, ohhh…” And, so was he. The sensations were… completely different compared to when he was underneath.

Cassandra glanced back. “You can go harder. Don’t worry about me.” He tried, but with us lack of experience, the position was just too awkward for him to go quickly. She must have realized this, as her arms once again phased through his hands. “Just grab onto my waist,” she said, as she waited on her hands and knees.

Simon complied. At once, the difference was obvious. He felt more _stable_ , more _in control_. He thrust his hips. She cried out, but not in pain. Spurred on, he thrust again, harder. And harder. It wasn’t long before Cassandra had been pushed into the bed until she was lying prone, as Simon pounded against her. But he didn’t let up. “Aaannh… Si…mon…”

But Simon couldn’t hear her. He was completely blinded by his desires. He thrust into Cassandra without any rhythm. Any thought of Velvet and his mission was far away. All that mattered to him was the beautiful woman lying beneath him, and his need to fill her with his seed.

But through the haze of lust, Simon felt a hand touch his face. It pulled on him gently. He didn’t question it. He didn’t need to. He leaned in, and a pair of lips touched his.

It pushed him over the edge. All the tension was released, and with a few final thrusts, he came deep inside her. A warmth spread through him. At the same time, she shuddered, letting out a long, satisfied moan, and felt her whole body shudder beneath him.

He wasn’t sure how long the two of them were locked in that deep kiss. But eventually, Simon had to pull away. Cassandra flopped onto the bed, her energy spent, breathing heavily.

Simon was at a complete loss for words. It was nothing at all like his nights with Zarga. Even Velvet couldn’t compare. With Cassandra, sex felt… _right_ , in a way he couldn’t explain. He didn’t feel ashamed, or relieved it was over. He wanted… _more_. Even after two rounds, he felt like it still wasn’t enough. He wanted to push Cassandra onto her back and thrust into her. He wanted her to use her mouth, the way Zarga had. He wanted to try all the strange positions he’d seen monsters use to mate, with her. He wanted…

Simon brought his racing thoughts to a halt. This… wasn’t why he was here. He wanted to keep going, so very badly. But, he had a job to do.

He looked to the lich. “Is that enough?”

The lich looked up from her ledger. “For now at least,” she replied flatly. She finished writing something into her book and set it aside. “Now, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to meet with your associates. I have a few questions I would like to ask them.”

* * *

 

“Remarkable…” the lich said. She leaned in, her hand on her chin, and looked closely at Zarga and Velvet. “That your Anuic energies could remain so strong in the presence of these Padomaic forces… is this resilience a natural characteristic of his race, or is the subject an anomaly?”

“What the hell is she babbling about?” Zarga whispered.

Simon glanced to the gazer, eyebrow raised. “This isn’t normal for mages?”

After the deed was done, Simon led the lich back through the Undercity, up to the surface, and back to the inn where Zarga and Velvet were waiting, as she had requested. Simon wasn’t sure exactly how long he was supposed to keep humoring her, but he saw this as a good thing- Velvet would no doubt have an easier time persuading the lich to examine the Sacred Flame for them than he would. So, he waited in silence in the room Zarga and Velvet had rented as the lich asked his companions a seemingly endless barrage of questions.

The lich had her hand extended, and was shining her yellow light over Zarga. “Now, which of you has claimed the subject as your husband?”

“Hm? Oh, no, Simon isn’t my husband. Just a servant. It’s… _tradition_ in the Royal Monster Realm for nobility to bed new servants.”

Zarga looked away. “Not me. He’s just a lay. And not even a good one.”

“Hmm, I see…” the lich mumbled, writing a few notes in her ledger. “In any case, how many times have you engaged in the Dibellan arts with the subject?”

Zarga tilted her head in confusion. “The what now?”

“Hmm?” The lich tilted her head, confused, before quickly saying, “Oh, yes, apologies. How many times have you _mounted_ the subject?”

The gazer blinked in a sudden realization. “Oh! We’ve done it three times. Four if a BJ counts.”

Velvet’s shade shot Zarga a glare. “ _…Once._ ”

“Remarkable,” the lich said again, writing. “ _Truly_ remarkable. For most men, their energies shift in favor of Padomay after the third mounting, if not sooner. But Anu and Padomay remain perfectly balanced within the subject. If anything, it is the _Anuic_ energies which remain dominant.” She then looked to Simon, a small smile on her lips. “It seems the deeper I delve, the more infinitely fascinating you become. I could devote the rest of my days to studying you, erm…” She stuttered. “…it just occurred to me that I never thought to ask your name.”

“It’s Simon,” Simon replied. “And, I’m… flattered, I think. And you’re… Cleo, right?”

The lich laid a hand on her bare chest. “I’ve been known by many names. But, yes- in this world, this body is known as Cleo.”

“Well then, Miss Cleo,” Velvet began. “I would have no problems with you continuing to examine Simon. But before that, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

“Certainly,” the lich replied, as she set her ledger aside. “If it is within my abilities, I will assist with whatever you ask of me.”

The lilim’s shade leaned in, and said in a hushed tone, “We have an artifact that we want you to examine. Can you do that?”

“My specialties lie more with the study of Aetherial flows rather than in artifacts, I’m afraid,” she replied. “But, I can at least _attempt_ an assessment.”

Velvet nodded. “Good. Now give me just a moment.” The lilim held out her hand- a portal of smoke appeared on the floor, a familiar canister rising up from it. Cleo approached it, curious. “Simon, if you would.”

Simon laid a hand on top of the canister. “I’d recommend you take a step back,” he said to the lich. Then, he lifted the lid of the canister.

A blue light filled the room. At once, Simon felt his hand dry up as the barrier engulfed it, until he pulled back and out of its reach. He couldn’t help but squint as he looked down at the Flame- in the perpetual darkness of the monster realm, it felt like ages since he’d seen such a brilliant light.

Any veneer of calmness evaporated as Cleo laid eyes on the blue flame. As if in a trance, the lich crouched down and slowly extended her hand toward the barrier. “Hey, hang on! Don’t touch that!” Zarga shouted. But Cleo didn’t hear her. She began to reach inside the barrier- but as soon as her fingertips entered the barrier, black smoke began to pour from them. After a moment, Cleo withdrew her hand. Her fingertips were completely gone, black blood flowing down her hand from the stumps where they had been. She looked down at her hand, before looking to Simon and the others, eyes wide. “ _How came you by this?_ ”

No one said anything at first. They were too stunned by Cleo’s complete lack of reaction to her injury. But after a moment, Simon collected himself enough to cover the Flame once more and reply, “The founder of my homeland, a man named Saint Gabriel, made this flame. We were hoping you could tell us how.”

Cleo looked back to the Flame. “…Made?” The lich started laughing. “ _Made?_ This is a font of pure Anuic energies! You couldn’t ‘make’ this anymore than you could ‘make’ more gravity! Anu is… well, closer to a universal force rather than an entity…”

“What are you talking about?” Zarga demanded.

The lich blinked, confused. “Oh, yes, of course. I keep forgetting that in this world, I haven’t published my research notes.” She turned away, approaching a wall. “You see, ever since I was a child, I’ve had dreams. Dreams my father and I shared. Or, perhaps the world I enter when I sleep is the real world, and _this_ world that I perceive now is in fact the dream.”

As she spoke, she used the blood from her missing fingertips to draw a diagram on the wall- two overlapping circles, with lines radiating from their centers. She then circled the point where the two circles overlapped, and said:

“You see, the totality of Creation- the Aurbis- is the Grey Center formed from the interplay between two great forces: Stasis and Change, order and disorder. Cultures across Tamriel have known them by different names: Anu-Padomay, Anuiel-Sithis, Satak-Akel, Is-Is Not… but though their names vary, their nature does not.” As she spoke, Cleo drew another diagram on the wall in blood- this one appeared to be some type of planetary array with orbital paths, but it wasn’t their solar system. It wasn’t any that Simon recognized.

“Okay, slow down,” Zarga said. “What does any of that have to do with the Flame?”

Cleo stopped for only a moment to wipe her forehead, before continuing to draw yet another diagram- a map of… _some_ continent. “Ordinarily the presence of Anu is faint, as he pulled himself and Padomay outside of time forever, to end the threat Padomay posed to Creation. But your ‘Saint Gabriel’ pierced the rim of the Aurbis, reached beyond time, and retrieved a fragment of Anu itself. I would need… _months_ to fully explain just how impossible this is.”

“We don’t need any elaborate explanations,” Velvet said. “All we need to know is whether or not you can extinguish the Sacred Flame.”

Cleo rubbed her chin. “I… It is certainly within the realm of possibility. Any entity not native to the Mundus can be banished to whence they came. But, this is no simple Daedra. And without knowing the process by which this ‘Flame’ came to this world, finding the correct banishing ritual would be pure guesswork. It could take years of study- _decades_ , possibly.”

“I… see.” Velvet said hesitantly, before abruptly standing up. “Would you excuse us for just a moment?” Without waiting for an answer, the lilim extended both hands- an invisible force gripped Simon, and he and Zarga were dragged out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the inn.

Simon was released as soon as they were outside. For several moments, there was only silence between the three. Simon looked to Zarga and Velvet- was clear from their faces what they were thinking, but wouldn’t broach the subject. So, he took it upon himself to say it: “I don’t think Cleo can help us.”

“Gee, what was your first clue?” Zarga asked exasperated. “She’s totally off her rocker! All that nonsense about Mundus and Padmé…”

“She does seem very… _troubled_ ,” Velvet admitted. “It’s strange, though. My contacts in the Royal Monster Realm made no mention of this.”

Zarga looked to Velvet, crossing her arms. “You can criticize your sources later. Let’s just ditch her and get out of here.”

Suddenly, Simon drew his sword. “We might not be walking away from this so easily.”

A pair of living armors were striding down the narrow street toward the three, shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking any way through. In the opposite direction, another pair of armors approached. But the second pair were accompanied by another- a blonde man with a youthful appearance, in white armor and a red hood.

“Kidnapping, Velvet? I thought you were better than that,” Euden said, as he came to a halt a few steps away. “But then, I thought better of my siblings, too. And look what that got me.”

“What do you want?” Zarga demanded.

Euden folded his arms over his chest. “You _know_ why I’m here. Return Cleo to us, and I promise you we’ll be lenient.”

“We didn’t kidnap her,” Simon said. “She asked to meet with us, of her own free will.”

“You’ll have a chance to argue your case in a fair trial. Now lower your weapon. And be thankful _I_ found you first. Elisanne is fuming, and-”

“ _Where is she!?_ ” a voice bellowed. Heavy footsteps echoed down the streets. Just a few moments later, one of the living armors across from Euden was shoved aside, and Elisanne stepped out from behind it. She was fully adorned in a set of fearsome, heavy-looking black armor, a long halberd in her hands, it’s silver head glinting in the darkness. Her glare somehow became even more fearsome the moment she laid eyes on Simon.

“ _You,_ ” she growled. “ _I knew you couldn’t be trusted. Alban._ ” She pointed her spear at him. “I don’t know what you planned to do with Cleo, and honestly, I don’t care. But it ends here. I’m hauling you to the palace dungeons myself.”

Velvet, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke up. “You’re not taking him anywhere.”

Elisanne strode up right into the shade’s face. “Try to stop me, and you’ll rot in a cell right alongside him.”

But Velvet didn’t back down. “You can’t arrest me. Only Mother has that authority.”

Elisanne didn’t stand down, either. “ _I_ am Ikana’s ruler. _I_ decide what happens within its borders. And as of this moment, I’m placing all three of you under arrest. Now stop hiding behind smoke and mirrors and submit yourself to judgment.”

“Okay that’s it,” Zarga snapped. “I’ve had just about enough of you disrespecting Lady Velvet.” The gazer forced herself between Velvet and Elisanne, her many eyes glowing, and all focused on the wight.

Elisanne looked down at Zarga, unamused. “Are you trying to threaten me?”

Zarga’s eyes flashed an angry red. “You keep it up, and I’ll do a whole lot more than just ‘threaten’ you.”

Elisanne glared down at Zarga… before wild grin crept across her face. “Very well. If you wish to invoke trial by combat to prove your innocence, then who am I to object? Euden!”

Euden looked to Elisanne, clearly taken aback. “Ellie?”

Elisanne glanced back to the prince. “You heard them, didn’t you? They want to use the strength of their sword arms to prove their innocence. And it would be most ungracious as fair and just rulers to deny their request.”

Euden’s jaw visibly tightened, but he said nothing in response, and simply drew his sword in silence.

“Fine by me,” Zarga said, cracking her knuckles. “We’ll see how high and mighty you are when I put your boyfriend-”

But Simon put out his arm, and stepped forward. “No,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

The gazer scoffed. “Yeah, because that went _so well_ last time.”

Simon held his tongue, focusing instead on arguing his side. Mages _were_ powerful- he wouldn’t dispute that. But to be most effective, they needed additional support to keep enemies at a distance- in a one-on-one battle, a skilled warrior (or even just a particularly quick one) could close in and overpower a mage with ease. This was true even for monsters, though as most were stronger than the average human, they could fend off attackers if need be… with the notable exception of gazers. In exchange for their magical prowess, their physique was greatly diminished- in terms of physical strength, most gazers were no more imposing than a child, and not particularly quick on their feet, either. Against a _human_ , Zarga could win with her magic alone; but against an opponent several magnitudes stronger than a human, able to move too fast for the human eye to follow…

Simon was about to argue all of this, but Velvet cut him off: “Zarga. Let Simon fight.”

Zarga looked to Velvet, eye wide. “ _Tell me_ you’re kidding.”

There was no trace of levity on Velvet’s face. “You can’t fight Euden and you know it.”

The gazer huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, and turned her gaze to Simon. “You’d better not lose this time,” she said harshly.

Simon stepped forward. Euden glanced at him, and said, “You don’t want to do this.”

Simon held his sword ready, taking a steady stance. “I’m not gonna sit back and let myself be punished for a crime I didn’t commit.”

Euden lowered himself into his own stance. “You’re tenacious. I can respect that.” His eyes fell on the gouge in Simon’s breastplate. “But you _can’t_ beat me.”

Simon tightened his grip on his sword. “Prove it, then.”

The two said nothing more, standing ready. Then, Elisanne called, “…Begin!”

Euden tensed, and vanished. He reappeared in front of Simon, sword drawn back. But Simon was prepared this time. He raised his sword, and blocked the prince’s swing. But Simon staggered back, shaking- even though he’d blocked it, the blow came faster and hit harder than any that he’d taken before. Euden’s eyes widened for just a moment, before he raised his sword and vanished. Another blow came, this time from the left. Simon blocked it again, but only just. A third blow, this time from overhead, but Simon wasn’t fast enough- there was a clattering as the pauldron on his left shoulder fell to the ground, split in half by a single cut.

Blows rained down on Simon on all sides- it was everything he could do to block them, but more than once did Euden slip through, leaving a new gash in his armor. He understood now why so many men had to be sent to kill just one wight. Then, a blow came from below. Simon tried to block, but the awkward angle managed to send his sword flying from his hand. Euden reappeared, his sword pulled back, and swung at Simon’s neck.

A ghostly hand reached out of Simon, and grabbed the blade of the prince’s sword, pushing it aside. Then Cassandra stepped out, pulled back her fist, and punched Euden hard across the jaw. The prince stumbled back- seeing his opening, Simon dashed to where his sword had fallen, and grabbed it, taking up his stance as he quietly mumbled, “Thanks for that.”

Euden was still reeling. He touched his face with a confused expression, as if unsure of what had just happened. But Elisanne did, because she called, “ _Hey, what the hell was that!?_ ” Both Simon and Euden stopped as the wight marched toward them. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pointed at Simon and ordered, “Out.”

“Ellie, what are you-” Euden began.

“ _Out!_ ” Elisanne shouted.

In response, Cassandra immediately left Simon’s body, and floated quickly to Velvet and Zarga. After giving her a long glare, Elisanne said, “Any more surprises, and I'll end this match. Personally.” She stepped back. “Positions.”

Simon readied himself, as did Euden. “ _Continue._ ”

Euden vanished. Simon turned- he noticed the prince eyeing the ground behind him, no doubt planning to strike at his back. Sure enough, Euden appeared there. But as soon as he appeared, he suddenly vanished again, reappearing behind Simon. He turned, but had no time to raise his sword as Euden slashed at his chest, leaving another deep gouge in his armor. Simon was knocked back, and slid across the ground, coming to a stop near Velvet. He could feel a burning on his chest. But that was good- the burning he felt meant his wound was shallow. But it also meant that Euden wasn’t holding anything back.

Elisanne’s laughter echoed in his ears. “Just make this easier for all of us and stay down!”

A heat flared in Simon’s chest… but he suppressed his rage, and pushed himself up, slowly. He wasn’t badly hurt, but he needed a moment to think. As much as he hated to admit it, Zarga was right- as things were, he was going to lose this fight. He needed something to tip the scales in his favor…

His energy draining power. That was it. _That_ could give him the leverage he needed. But, whose powers should he absorb?

Euden himself was out of the question. Simon doubted the prince would leave any openings to exploit. And even if the opportunity presented itself, Euden would realize what was happening and put a stop to it.

Velvet? Unlikely. Trying to draw energy from her shade would most likely just cause it to vanish completely, rather than give him any of her power.

Cassandra? She _could_ help… but Elisanne had already caught her helping him. Any further contact would most likely set Elisanne into a rage.

Zarga? …actually, she was the most plausible. Although most well-known for their hypnotic eye, it was far from a gazer’s _only_ skill. Their gaze could induce all manner of effects- they could slow their target, fill them with insurmountable fear… even petrify or disintegrate them. He had no way of knowing what effect he would gain from Zarga, but any one of her skills would be a tremendous benefit- all the more because Euden would be unprepared to be attacked from a distance.

“Hey, hurry it up over there!” Elisanne shouted. “Unless you’re finally giving up?”

Simon let out a loud grunt of exertion, as if in pain, and made a show of trying to stand up, before looking to the gazer. “Zarga, could you give me a hand?”

The gazer huffed, but approached and extended her hand to Simon. “I really hope you’ve got a plan.”

“I do.” He took her hand. “And, I’m sorry.” He concentrated, trying to draw the mana from Zarga’s body. As soon as the thought came, mist began flowing from Zarga’s arm into Simon. She let out a gasp, before stumbling and sinking to her knees, breathing heavily. Simon on the other hand rose to his feet, energized. He could feel a new sensation- a kind of… _heat_ in the back of his eyes.

But, how exactly did gazers use their ocular magic? Was there a verbal command, or did he just have to think-

Simon was blinded as a brilliant white beam suddenly shot from his eyes. He almost fell as the sudden release of energy pushed his head backwards, and he stumbled, but stopped himself from falling. Simon hadn’t been aiming deliberately, so the beam struck the ground a few feet in front of him, showering him with bits of stone and mortar, leaving behind a fairly sizable crater.

Simon’s vision quickly returned. All eyes were turned to him. Velvet and Zarga looked on in shock. The rage on Elisanne’s face was clear. But Euden quickly suppressed his surprise and lowered himself. Simon knew exactly what was coming- the prince was going to rush him, before he could fire another eye beam.

But he wouldn’t let him. Bracing himself, Simon fixed his gaze on the prince, and fired another beam of light from his eyes.

The prince didn’t move. He stood his ground, and held out his sword sideways, bracing the blade with his free hand. Simon saw the beam of light strike Euden’s sword… before being reflected off of the blade and into the sky. Euden took a fighting stance, smirking. “You think I can’t handle- Huh?” The prince cut himself off. Simon quickly realized why- the blade of Euden’s sword glowed a deep red, and was bending toward the ground. It seemed the intensity of his eye beam was too much for the metal to handle.

Simon braced himself. He had an opening, and he had to take advantage of it. An unarmed wight could easily overpower an armed opponent, and if Euden managed to regain his footing, then this fight was as good as over. So, he charged, raising up his sword, and swinging at the prince with a powerful overhead strike.

Euden instinctively raised his sword to parry the blow. But the blow was too much for the weakened blade to handle, and Euden’s sword broke with a loud _snap_. Simon’s blade continued, cutting a deep gouge in the prince’s breastplate. Euden stumbled back, but Simon wasn’t finished- he lowered down, and rammed the prince with his shoulder with all his might, and knocked him off his feet. Euden was knocked flat on his back, but before he could rise, Simon stepped on his chest, pinning him to the ground, and pointed his sword at his exposed throat. And with that, their fight was over. There was nothing the prince could do to prevent Simon from striking a killing blow.

Simon took several deep breaths to calm himself as he glared down at Euden. Finally, he said, “That’s what you get for understanding a Purifier.”

But Simon’s sense of accomplishment was short-lived. A blur rushed toward him and pushed him away from Euden- as he stumbled, Simon felt something grab him by the throat and lift him into the air. Choking, he reached out, and grabbed at the hand around his throat, but it wouldn’t budge. “ _I should pop your goddamned head off right here and now!_ ” he heard Elisanne shout at him.

But then, Elisanne’s fingers were forcefully pried away from his neck, and he was dropped to the ground. Gasping, he looked up- Elisanne’s arm was twisting behind her back at a painful looking angle, and she was slowly sinking to her knees. She twisted, but whatever was holding her refused to let go. “What… what is this!? Let go, _let go of me!_ ”

”Apologies, My Lady. But I can’t do that,” a calm, almost emotionless voice replied. “Not until you’ve calmed down.” Simon looked- it was Cleo, approaching with her hand extended toward Elisanne. The lich flexed her fingers, and Elisanne was forced onto her knees, her head pushed against the ground.

 The wight gritted her teeth and struggled, but couldn’t break free. “ _Cleo! You traitor! Let me go this instant!_ ”

Cleo did not release Elisanne. “The trial is over, My Lady. Lord Euden was disarmed and at his opponent’s mercy. And even if he could continue, your interference has rendered the contest void.”

Elisanne bucked, lifting herself up a few inches before she was forced back down. “ _What!? I didn’t interfere! If anyone should be disqualified, it’s **him!**_ ”

Cleo’s placid gaze hardened. “My Lady, you have become increasingly erratic over the last few hours. I believe an external influence is affecting your judgment.” Cleo walked to Elisanne’s side. “I will attempt to purge you of its influence.” The lich held out her hand, and a small column of mist began to flow out of the wight.

“ _Don’t you dare! I’m perfectly… p-perfectly_ … perfectly…” Elisanne trailed off, her brow furrowed as if trying to remember something. “Why… was I so upset? Velvet and I aren’t on the best of terms, but… that doesn’t excuse the way I’ve been treating her…”

Simon watched, confused by the shift in Elisanne’s personality. It took him too long to realize what had happened; once he had, he stepped forward. “That… would be my fault,” he said, ashamed.

Cleo finally released Elisanne, allowing the wight to rise to her feet. “ _Your_ fault?” the wight asked.

Simon averted his gaze. “…Up until recently, I was a monster hunter. And I killed _a lot_ of monsters in my old role. So many that the scent of their blood… clings to me. And when other monsters smell it, it drives them into a frenzy. They revert to their old instincts under the last Overlord, and try to kill me.” His voice lowered. “We thought that stronger monsters were less vulnerable to the effects. But it looks like we were wrong.”

A long silence fell over the group. Eventually, Elisanne turned to face the lich. “Cleo. I need to ask you: did these people abduct you?”

Cleo shook her head slowly. “No, My Lady. What Simon said earlier is true: I contacted him and met him of my own accord. I was not coerced in any way.”

“I see…” the wight replied.

Cleo then spoke again, standing up straight. “My Lady, I would like to request an extended leave of absence from my duties. Simon exhibits unusual characteristics which I believe may hold vital clues to my research. With your permission, I would like to accompany him in his travels to continue observations.”

Elisanne didn’t reply. Rather, she glared silently at Simon and the others. Until Euden laid a hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Ellie. Cleo can handle herself.” His gaze turned to Simon. “And if that kid can beat me, then they can handle anything they find on the road.”

Simon wasn’t quite so sure about that. The score between them was even, but that was only because both Cassandra and Zarga had helped him. But he chose to keep his silence.

Still, Elisanne continued to narrow her eyes, first at Simon, then at Velvet. “…I suppose leaving _one_ citizen in your care shouldn’t be beyond your capabilities,” she finally said, slowly, and reluctantly. She then gave Velvet a hard glare. “But I expect you to return our court mage alive, and unharmed.”

“You have my word that on the life of my mother, the Overlord, no harm will come to her.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Elisanne looked to Cleo, giving a small tilt of her head. “Go on, now.”

“Thank you. May Talos guard you both.” She then turned to Simon. “I have a few things I need to gather for the journey. Tools that would allow me to make more in-depth analyses. If I may…”


End file.
